House of Memories
by Cracked silver
Summary: Sock had forgotten about his past life for the most part. He wasn't really upset about this and figured it was all part of being dead. But when his memories came back with a terrifying vengeance, he must admit that he has deep psychological issues. Not wanting to embrace the truth, he leaves Jonathan's home to find solace in his work. This only hides a truth Jon can find, however.
1. Teenage Runaway

_Hey, everyone. So, like my last fic, this one was partially inspired by something a friend said. One day while we were talking, she mentioned that she thought Jonathan would get jealous if Sock left to haunt someone else. I agreed and asked if she would mind my using it as a fic. When she said she didn't, I wrote the idea down and kind of forgot about it. Then, while listening to an audio book about the psychology of serial killers, I began to wonder what would cause someone to murder their parents in their sleep. This turned into my wondering whether Sock had any deep psychological issues, and this fic was born. Before I end this author's note, I must list a few warnings. First, this fic does mention suicide and will most likely discuss the issue in depth in later chapters. Psychological issues will also be discussed. Finally, Sock and Jonathan are going to probably end up together because I think it's cute. So, if any of this upsets you in anyway, please don't read this fic. I'm sorry for the long note, but I felt like things needed to be explained, and those warnings really needed to be said. Without further ado, please enjoy_ House of Memories!

Sock had been acting oddly over the past week. Rather than pestering Jonathan spontaneously at school, causing a wide array of embarrassing situations, and following the blonde around, Sock had been floating around Jonathan's house, subdued. He had been paying little attention to Jonathan and seemed to be constantly lost in thought. Whenever Jonathan talked to Sock or asked the little ghost a question, Sock would startle and gaze at the other boy as if he didn't know him. Though he would never admit it to anyone, especially Sock, it was starting to get on Jonathan's nerves.

Jonathan flopped onto his bed after tossing his book bag to the side, letting out a large sigh as these thoughts circled through his mind. What could possibly be bothering Sock? It's not like he had many pressing responsibilities, being a spirit and all. Maybe he was in trouble with Mephistopheles? It _had_ been over a year since Sock had been assigned to Jonathan, and he hadn't yet convinced the high schooler to end his life. Mephistopheles may have become impatient and snapped at or threatened Sock. Jonathan nodded slowly; this would make sense of the little spirit's recent mopey behavior. Even though Jonathan was certain Sock had some sort of mental disorder, he had also noticed that Sock didn't like to be reprimanded. After thinking this over, Jonathan crossed it off as a possibility. Although Sock did not like to be snapped at, he usually bounced back quickly. This meant something else was troubling him.

"And if there is?" Jonathan asked of no one in particular. "Why should I care? He's a major pest, and he wants me to kill myself!" Steeling himself with this logic, Jonathan stood and shuffled into the kitchen.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, Jonathan knew it had been a good idea to at least attempt to steel himself. Sock was floating above the table, eyes glazed and full of tears. Jonathan sighed; he hated it when Sock cried, though it was not a regular occurrence. If Sock was crying, it meant something serious was going on.

"Hey, Sock." Jonathan murmured, knowing he couldn't avoid whatever emotional turmoil Sock was going through for much longer.

Sock, as usual, startled and looked at Jonathan. After recognizing the other boy, the little spirit quickly rubbed at his eyes with a small fist. "H-Hi, Jon."

Jonathan sighed and walked over to the table, grabbing Sock's hands and tugging him closer. "Sock, cut the crap. What's wrong?"

Sock held onto Jon's hands, still not quite used to the sensation. Though he had only been dead for a year, he had long forgotten what it had been like to physically touch another human being. About a month or so ago, he and Jonathan had discovered that, if either one of them wished to, they could touch the other. Being able to touch someone else, even if it was someone that he secretly feared hated his guts, made Sock happy, despite the oddness of the situation. He looked down, allowing his massive bangs to fall into his eyes. "It's…. hard to explain."

"Try." Jonathan urged, squeezing Sock's hands. He wasn't often affectionate toward anyone, including his parents, but Sock was different for some reason.

Sock squirmed, subconsciously tightening his grip on Jonathan's hands. "I've been having nightmares."

"Nightmares? I thought you didn't sleep?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"I don't think I do? Maybe they're flashbacks! I don't know!" Sock replied, clearly upset.

"Hey, hey! It's okay." Jon hurried to reassure the smaller boy. "Can you describe the flashbacks or whatever the hell they are?"

Calming down, Sock nodded and lowered his body until he was just hovering above the table. "Well, a couple months after I died, I began to forget about my past life. It started out with small stuff, like where I went to school or what ice cream tasted like. Then, as the months went on, I began to forget more and more. By the time I met you, I had forgotten almost everything. Then, about a month or so ago, I started having, like, visions."

"The flashbacks?" Jonathan asked softly, reluctant to interrupt. However, he wanted to make sure he understood what was going on.

Sock nodded. "Yeah. I didn't think much of them at first. I thought they might be memories from when I was alive, but I figured that it happened to all spirits. It was just part of being dead. Then they became more intense." Sock looked up, green eyes searching Jon's blue ones for a reaction.

Jonathan considered what he'd just learned before responding. "Is this what's been bothering you?"

Sock quickly looked away, but Jonathan caught a glimpse of the fear in the little spirit's eyes. "Um…yeah."

When Sock didn't offer up more information, Jonathan pressed the matter further. "Well, why's that? If they're only memories, they shouldn't be too upsetting." He raised an eyebrow. "Unless your life was shitty?"

Sock flinched, and Jon knew he had hit a nerve. He waited patiently, still holding the spirit's hands. Eventually, Sock looked back up and Jonathan saw that he was crying again. "I don't think my life was supposed to be shitty! From what I can remember, I had a pretty decent life, even if my parents were never around. It's not like I was abused or anything." He sniffled and let go of Jonathan's hands. He had clearly said more than he'd intended to.

Jon bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. On one hand, he wanted to know what was so bad about remembering one's past life, but he also understood that Sock wasn't one to overreact often. So, for whatever reason, regaining his memories was sending Sock down a spiral of depression.

"So, what is it about your memories that are bothering you so much if your life wasn't exactly shitty?" Jonathan questioned, crossing his arms as he returned to his usual moody self. Though he had rationalized that something serious must be wrong with Sock, he couldn't help his impatience. His life wasn't exactly great, and here was this little idiot of a ghost who was suddenly complaining about his problems, or lack thereof.

Sock flinched; he had already feared Jon's reaction, especially since he hadn't been able determine the blonde's feelings regarding his confession. Jonathan snapping at him had been at the forefront of his worries. He floated backwards until he was on the other side of the table. "Nothing's bothering me. I guess I just overreacted to a regular part of being dead."

This blatant lie seemed to annoy Jonathan further. "Now you're gonna lie to me?"

Sock narrowed his eyes as a bright red aura began to form around his body. "What do you care if I lie or not? You've never liked me anyway! You don't think I don't know you wish I would go away?"

It was Jon's turn to flinch. His arms fell to his sides as Sock's words sunk in. "Sock, I didn't mean it like that-"

Sock was no longer in the mood to confide into who he thought had been his only friend. "Forget it, Jonathan." The blond flinched again. It had been months since Sock had called him anything but "Jon". Before he could attempt another apology, Sock had disappeared.

Jonathan groaned; that had not at all gone to plan. He hadn't intended to run into Sock in the kitchen, but he had also expected it as a definite possibility. So, he had decided he would attempt to get to the root of Sock's problems if he did run into the little ghost. Instead, he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him and had chased Sock off to God knows where. He sighed, trying to find relief in the fact that Sock would have to return at some point. It _was_ his job, after all.

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Sock didn't come back, though. For the first couple of days, Jonathan tried not to let this bother him. Sock _was_ upset, after all. It would make sense for him to stay away for a couple of days. However, as the days turned into weeks, Jonathan's worry grew. He had no choice but to admit that Sock might not be coming back. This upset him more than he cared to admit, and he found himself looking for Sock in his favorite hiding places. The little spirit had to come back at some point; it's not like Mephistopheles would let Sock abandon his post for much longer. Right?

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Little did Jonathan know, Mephistopheles would let Sock abandon his post for months on end if he were offered a deal. After all, the Devil does enjoy making deals.

After his fight with Jon, Sock had headed straight for hell, determined to get a new assignment. After all, anyone had to be better than that jerk. He wouldn't let his emotions take over this time. He would get the job done and then move onto the next assignment, just like Mephistopheles had originally intended.

When Sock burst into the Devil's office, still radiating a red aura, the fallen angel in question was frantically digging through his filing cabinets.

"Where is it? Where is it?" He muttered, tossing manila envelopes to the floor.

Curiosity began to win over Sock's rage. He floated over, tilting his head and making the flaps of his hat twitch. "Where's what?"

Mephistopheles whirled around, clutching a manila envelope. There was a maniac gleam in his eyes. "This!"

"Uh…that doesn't really answer any questions, Mephistopheles. Why were you so determined to find that particular file?"

The gleam in Mephistopheles eyes began to dim as he realized who he was speaking with. When Sock had arrived, he had noticed someone entering the room, but he had been so enraptured with the task at hand, so he had assumed it was some lower-level demon looking for yet another favor. He certainly wasn't expecting to see Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski in his office today. He hid the file behind his back and gave Sock a charming smile.

"It's of no importance! I was just attempting to solve an issue with the sixth level of Hell."

Sock raised an eyebrow, noticing that the Devil's smile hadn't quite reached his eyes. However, he knew better than to press the matter. Mephistopheles had already punished him twice this year. He wasn't eager for a repeat of that treatment. "All right, then."

Relieved, Mephistopheles set the file aside and turned back to Sock. "So, Mr. Sowachowski, what can I do for you on this hellish day?"

Sock rolled his eyes. "Hellish _is_ exactly how I would describe my day. I came to propose a deal, Mephistopheles."

The gleam returned to the Devil's eyes. "A deal? Do continue."

"If you cancel my current assignment, I will do whatever task you think is fitting. I'll force kids to kill themselves with my evil powers. I'll torture sinners. I'll be your personal secretary. Just don't make me go back to Jonathan."

Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?" Sock looked away in response, bangs falling into his eyes as he clenched his teeth. Mephistopheles decided to return the favor and not press the matter. "All right. It seems like we have ourselves a proposal. In return for my cancelling your current assignment, you'll do whatever I please?" Sock nodded, and the Devil grinned. He _did_ enjoy making a deal. "It is done. Report back to my office tomorrow for your new assignment."

Sock let out a sigh of relief and nodded before floating out of the office. He had gotten his wish. He frowned, stopping outside the doorway to the seventh level of Hell. If he had gotten what he wanted, why did he feel like crying his heart out?

 _All right, that's chapter one. I'm honestly not sure about the uploading schedule because I'm working on moving and getting ready for college. I do hope you guys enjoyed this fic, though. Please feel free to leave any suggestions and reviews. I appreciative constructive criticism. I love you, guys. XOXOXO_


	2. Welcome Your Inner Demons

_I was not expecting to have the next chapter up so quickly. I actually had writer's block, and my friend, who is also the beta for this story, gave me a few suggestions. So...this happened. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy it. A special thanks goes to my beta for staying up late to read these and give me suggestions for improvement. I forgot to say that last time as well as this: I do not own Welcome to Hell. All characters and the like belong to Erica Wester, the creator. I do not claim any ownership to anything except my own ideas. Please be aware of delicate content and strong language. If any of that has any chance whatsoever of upsetting you, please don't keep reading._

 _Enjoy!_

Sock reluctantly floated into Mephistopheles's office the next morning, looking decidedly angrier than he had the day before.

Mephistopheles was sitting cross-legged on his desk, smirking. "Good morning, Mr. Sowachowski. Are you ready for your new assignment?"

Sock nodded, looking down at his feet. Mephistopheles, still grinning, hopped off his desk and strolled over. "Perfect. Follow me, then." And with that, he walked out of his office. Sock, now slightly more interested in what was going to happen, followed.

Mephistopheles walked down the long hallway that served as the joining point of all the circles and layers of hell, heels clicking on the floor. Sock floated close behind, gazing around in confusion. He had never been this far down the hallway…Before he could continue along that line of thought, Mephistopheles stopped outside a cracked and burning door. Smoke issued from the bottom of the door in great black billows, and screams of agony pierced the air, causing Sock to flinch. Chains, rotten branches, and decrepit boards crisscrossed the door, forming a kind of barrier between the hallways and whatever horrors lived within. Mephistopheles turned; he had not stopped grinning this entire time.

"Here is where you will be working from now on."

Sock looked over the Devil's shoulder, worrying at his lower lip. "I, um…I'm working in the Ninth Circle?"

Mephistopheles nodded. "Yes. My last tormentor was not meeting my expectations, so he was, ah, terminated. I require a replacement."

Sock looked back at Mephistopheles, fear entering his green eyes. "The most powerful demons are the ones who work in the Ninth Circle! I'm only a spirit!"

Mephistopheles held up a finger, clucking his tongue in disapproval. "There will be no discussion concerning your new position, Mr. Sowachowski. We made a deal. I would terminate your assignment regarding the death of Jonathan Combs only if you agreed to an assignment of _my_ choosing. I have decided that you will be one of my tormentors in the Ninth Circle. This should not be too much trouble for someone who committed homicide in their sleep, correct?" Though the Devil's tone was pleasant, Sock could sense the fallen angel's annoyance. Not wanting to invoke Mephistopheles's wrath yet again, the little ghost nodded and looked away in deference. Mephistopheles smirked; it would be a pleasant day in Hell when he didn't get his way. "Lovely. We've come to an agreement. Your work begins now. I expect you to have tortured twenty souls before the end of your shift. I'll come collect you when the work day is over." Again, Sock only nodded and watched out of the corner of his eye as Mephistopheles strolled back down the hallway.

Once Mephistopheles was gone, Sock looked up at the door, unable to help the shiver that ran up his spine. He had heard rumors of the Ninth Circle from some of the retired demons who hung out near the Devil's office. They hadn't seemed fond of their former position, and Sock wasn't eager to take up the mantle. However, he knew if he didn't get his ghostly ass into the Circle, Mephistopheles would return and punish him. With a heavy sigh, he turned the brass doorknob, hissing as the metal burnt his hand, and floated inside.

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Jonathan came home to an empty house. Again. It had been over a month since Sock had disappeared. Jon hadn't been able to get in touch with him through any means, including repeating the little spirit's name a certain amount of times and using a Ouija Board. Nothing had worked. He had thoroughly searched all the places Sock had frequented multiple times, hoping to find the little ghost hiding and sulking. He hadn't found a single sign or clue. He had even sat in the middle of his bedroom and talked to Sock, thinking that the little spirit might appear and accept his apology. This had accomplished nothing except making Jon feel like an idiot. He didn't know what to do. He had spent the last couple of weeks doing all sorts of research on ghosts and demons. Maybe Sock was classified as the latter? He hadn't learned anything, though, and was feeling more hopeless as the days went by.

Falling back on his bed, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu as he did so, Jon groaned. When was Sock going to come home? Surely Mephistopheles would've fired the little idiot by now for abandoning his post for so long. What else did he have going on in his afterlife? Suddenly, Jonathan sat up. Why did he care so much about his house no longer being haunted? Why was he so bothered by the fact that Sock no longer followed him to school or popped up spontaneously in the bathroom? Why was he so goddamn upset about finally being left in peace? There was no longer a little creep in his house whose sole purpose was convincing Jonathan to end his life. Logically, he should be over the moon. And yet here he was, trying to convince himself that he didn't miss Sock's antics. He sighed; there had to be a way to get Sock back. He just had to figure it out.

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Sock wouldn't have been able to come back, even if he wanted to. Being one of the Devil's lead tormentors had become the sole focus of his life. While Jon had been researching ways to summon ghosts and demons, Sock had been torturing those unfortunate souls who found themselves in the Ninth Circle.

On the day Jonathan realized he missed Sock, the little ghost was busy wrapping white hot chains around Luis Garavito, a man who had tortured, sexually assaulted, and murdered at least 172 street children. Otherwise known as "La Bestia", or "The Beast", the Columbian man had been sent to the Ninth Circle for his crimes. As the head (and only) tormentor in that Circle, it was Sock's duty to introduce Garavito to the hellish delights of eternal suffering. So, this was how Sock found himself cutting gashes into Garavito's body and wrapping hot chains around the writhing man. Ignoring the pained shrieks, Sock continued about his work. He had learned to tune out the screams and sobbing, spending most of his workday lost in thought.

For the first couple of weeks, he had spent most of his time thinking about his life with Jonathan. He missed the living boy terribly and began to believe that he had overreacted during their argument. After all, it wasn't like Jon had intended to be malicious. Mistakes had been made on both sides. It was too late to rectify his mistake, though. He couldn't ask for another position change, especially if it meant breaking a deal. Mephistopheles would give him his worst punishment yet. Thoughts like these always upset Sock and almost always ensured his punishments would be more sadistic than usual.

As time passed, Sock began to forget about Jonathan and the life they shared. Instead, his focus turned to what he had decided were, in fact, "flashbacks". During his downtime, he questioned other ghosts and spirits, hoping to find similar stories. However, nobody else seemed to share Sock's experiences. He had even asked Mephistopheles for advice, thinking that if anyone understood what was happening, it would be the Devil himself. Mephistopheles had not appreciated his questions and had threatened punishment if Sock kept seeking answers. The little spirit had left the office, sulking. Why wouldn't anyone help him? äääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääää

Exactly thirteen weeks after Sock's departure, Jonathan woke up to creaking in the rafters. Unable to help the small smile that graced his features, Jonathan got out of bed and hurried up the stairs that led to the attic. The corners of the attic had been one of Sock's favorite hiding places. It had been eerily silent since Sock had left; the creaking must mean he had come back! Jonathan could finally apologize!

The spirit that greeted Jon in the attic wasn't Sock, though. A small demon with copper-colored hair and scarlet eyes grinned as he hovered over a box, flicking his black, pointed tail. Silver wings with black, gold, orange, and red flecks twitched as the demon tilted his head. "Hello, Jonathan Combs."

"Who are you?" Jon demanded, crossing his arms.

The demon chuckled. "Well, you're not very polite to house guests, are you, Jonathan Combs?"

Jon rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the attic walls. "Not when they appear in my attic in the middle of the night. Who are you? Did I summon you with the Ouija Board? Do I have to pay a priest to exorcise my house?"

The demon hissed at the mention of a priest performing an exorcism, unable to help himself. Quickly collecting himself, he smiled. "So many questions. I suppose I shall have to answer them all lest you continue with this pathetic interrogation?" Jonathan gritted his teeth and nodded, clearly irritated. Smiling more widely, the demon continued. "I shall start with the first question. My name is Caius, son of Cato. I am of the demon gentry from the Eleventh Circle."

"Eleventh Circle?" Jonathan interrupted. "I thought there were only Nine. That's what it says in _Dante's Inferno_."

Caius sighed. "You are so terribly rude, Jonathan Combs. I shall address this question before I continue answering your prior questions so you shall no longer interrupt. As far as you mortals know, there are only Nine Circles. However, there are two circles below those levels that are reserved entirely for demons that Mephistopheles favors above the rest. Specifically, the Eleventh Circle is reserved for demon royalty and gentry. Now, are you ready to sit quietly while I answer your other questions?" Jonathan nodded, frowning. He didn't enjoy being treated like a child, but he needed answers. Caius smiled before reclining in the air, wings fluttering gently. "Regarding your other questions, the answers to both are no. Ouija Boards do not function as they do in your silly films. To the residents of Hell, they are the equivalent to telemarketers. They are a mere nuisance. Such a silly game could not summon a demon; rather, a demon can choose to appear and torment the silly mortals who thought they had power over Hell's denizens."

"And if I google priests?" Jonathan asked, slowly taking this all in. He wasn't an idiot; he had realized that this Caius was Sock's replacement. The little ghost wasn't coming back.

"Though that would certainly send me back to Hell, I do not believe you will go through with your threat." Caius replied with a smirk. Jonathan frowned, noticing that Caius hadn't reacted negatively this time.

"Why's that? I just met you, so I have no reason to be afraid of you. Besides, I can just banish you myself, can't I? I mean, I do know your name."

"Yes, I suppose you could also "banish" me as you so barbarically put it." Caius replied, nodding thoughtfully "However, I do not believe you will do that either."

"Oh, yeah? What's stopping me?"

Caius chuckled. "I see someone hasn't done as much research on demons as they thought. I am Caius, mind-reader, thought-thief, and dream-eater. I know what you were thinking when you rushed up here, behaving like an ox in a china ship. You thought I was that pathetic little spirit "Sock." Caius smirked as he continued. "You thought he had returned and that you two could finally make amends. Whether you admit to yourself or not, you care deeply for that waste of a hell sprite. You were overjoyed when you believed he had returned to you. I am here to make matters clear to you. He will never come back. You broke his heart and his soul; you chased him away. You drove him back to Hell where he now lives in chains and fire. Mephistopheles sent me as his replacement. It is my duty to remind you of your ill judgement and all the cruel, idiotic moments of your life. I will not leave until I lead you down the path of hellfire."

Jonathan flinched, backing away from Caius and clumsily making his way toward the attic stairs. The little shit had to be lying! Demons were known to lie in order to get their way, so what Caius had just said couldn't be true. Right? Disbelief set in as the demon followed, smirking.

"You think I am lying, yes? You insult me childishly and hope that I speak falsehoods. However, you know that what I say is true. Sock ran away and has been punished severely for leaving his post. And it is all your fault."

Jon collapsed against the railing, trembling. Caius was telling the truth. Sock had told him stories of Mephistopheles's punishments. The Lord only knew what torment Sock was being put through for abandoning his post. As Caius settled next to him, snuggling into his side and causing a shudder to run down his spine, Jonathan let out a low sob. He had royally fucked up, and he had no idea if he could fix his mistakes. However, before he could properly focus on his grief, he noticed something that made the weird situation even weirder. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, looking up at the small demon. "Hey, how come you can touch me? Sock always had to ask permission to do that."

Caius looked over, raising an eyebrow. He had not been expecting this question. "In answer to your question, I have a story. Are you prepared to listen?" Jonathan nodded, eager to focus on anything but his pain. Caius settled against Jon again, ignoring the mortal's shudders as his voice took on a hushed tone. "Once, many centuries ago, the demon queen Auriol, the demon of lust and brutal affection, journeyed to the mortal world to seek a mate. Every century, Auriol journeyed to the realm of humans to find a new mate, finding that the mortals she blessed with her kindness died all too quickly. However, this trip would prove to be different. After residing in the mortal realm for a day, she spotted a man who stood out from the rest of the meandering humans. Auriol could not quite decide why this human stood out amongst the rest, but she knew she had to have him. Used to getting her way, Auriol sauntered over, smirking. It usually only took a moment or two to coerce a mortal man or woman to follow her into the depths of Hell, so she expected the same result on this occasion. However, before she could even touch the man, he turned and Auriol realized her mistake. This man was no man at all; he was the angel Decimus, lord of light and shadows. The angel gazed upon her sadly, for he loved her as much as she loved him. By ancient accord, however, they could never be together, and both knew this. So, Auriol, deciding that others who made this error should suffer as much as she would, placed a curse on herself and her descendants: anyone who fell for a being of light would place the mark of Hell upon that being forevermore."

Jonathan had been enraptured by the story, so it took him a moment to realize Caius had stopped speaking. Once he had collected himself, he arched a brow. "That's an interesting story, but I don't see what it has to do with me."

Caius chuckled. "Silly, silly mortal man. Sock is descended from Auriol and has given his heart to you, a being of light, in its entirety. Before you ask, all humans who have yet to physically harm another being are naturally of the light." Jonathan groaned, finding it hard to take this all in. So, in short, this disgusting demon could touch him because Sock had given him some sort of "Hell touch" and now any old demon could lay their hands on Jon. Sock had given Jon a parting present, after all: a curse. This along with everything else that had happened in the short time he had known Caius caused Jonathan to curl in on himself and shudder with grief. How was he ever going to fix this mess?

Caius sighed happily, cuddling closer as he absorbed the silly mortal's pain. He had, of course, been lying about Sock's fate, but what reason had he to tell the truth? His job was to make Jonathan suffer, not report to him on Sock's condition. Besides, he _despised_ that sprite. After ensuring that Jonathan was not paying attention to him, he allowed his anger to show on his face. That awful little sprite had taken _his_ job and pushed him aside as Mephistopheles's future mate. Caius bared his teeth, unable to help the low growl that crept up his throat. Luckily, Jon was too caught up in his grief to notice. Caius took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Sock would pay in time. After all, his father had promised him wretched retribution. What reason did he, the father of twenty demons, have to lie to his favorite son?

 _I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Again, I don't have a schedule for updates, so I can't guarantee chapters will continue to be up so quickly. As always, love and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I love you all!_

 _XOXOXO_


	3. Troublesome Conversations

_Hello again, my lovelies! I do not have much to say for this author's note, except the usual. A huge thank you goes to my beta for her suggestions and willingness to read over my chapters during the wee hours of the morning. I do not own_ Welcome to Hell. _That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I do, however, own all of my original ideas, though angsty they may be. As usual, be aware of mature content and eventual romance between Sock and Jon. If any of that has any chance of possibly upsetting you, please don't read this fic. Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!_

For once in his life, the Devil felt guilty. Flinging a manila envelope to the floor and watching as the papers fluttered to the ground, he groaned and covered his face with his hands. What was he going to do?

Before he could continue this panicked line of thinking, there was a soft knock at the open door. Mephistopheles lowered his hands, preparing himself to snap at whoever had disturbed him.

It was Caius. Good. He wasn't lying to Caius.

"Greetings, young Caius. What can I do for you?"

Caius sat on the edge of Mephistopheles's desk, sticking his lower lip out. "My Lord, why did you give that little imp so much power?"

Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow. He thought he'd be able to avoid the subject of Sock, but it seemed Caius had other ideas. "I'm sorry, but what does Mr. Sowchowski's position have to do with you? Besides," He continued, baring pointed teeth. "Shouldn't you be attending to your own duties? Jonathan Combs is not yet in my grasp."

Caius looked down, sulking. "He does nothing but ignore me, Master. I have put all your suggestions to use and have yet to see any results."

Mephistopheles's eyes darkened. "Are you blaming me for your incompetence, Caius? I cannot very well find another position for you. Your father will begin to ask questions."

The small demon flinched, realizing his mistake too late. Hurrying to backtrack, he shook his head frantically. "That is not the message I intended to convey! All I meant to convey was a report." He hopped off the desk and bowed, focusing on the edge of a rug. "I apologize for my lack of progress."

Mephistopheles relaxed; he wasn't really upset with Caius. He was used to the little demon's antics. All in all, he was just a spoiled little boy. "It's fine, Caius. You know I'm not going to explain my reasoning to you, though, so why are you really here?"

Caius straightened up, still fidgeting nervously. "I came to question whether my father has stopped by to make any proposals."

Mephistopheles gazed at Caius in confusion. "Proposals? Why would he even consider making a deal with me, Caius?"

The small demon looked down and shuffled his feet. "It would not be so much a deal as it would be a request."

The Devil's eyebrows furrowed before a look of understanding dawned on his face. "Oh! You speak of the marriage arrangements." As the tiny demon nodded, cheeks flushing, something clicked inside Mephistopheles's mind. "You were jealous of Sock!"

"What is there to be jealous of?" Caius snapped, forgetting who he was speaking to. "He is nothing more than an imp, a pathetic spirit. He has no real power and is only allowed to reside here because he is an interesting subject to you!"

Mephistopheles stood up so quickly that his desk chair skidded across the floor and hit the opposite wall. "You dare speak that way to the Angel of Light? I was once the Lord's favorite, and you see it fit to lecture me on my actions!"

Caius stumbled away from Mephistopheles as a pitch-black aura surrounded the fallen angel. His back hit a wall, and he turned to face his master fearfully. "My Lord, I am-" Before he could say anything else, Mephistopheles stormed across the room and slapped him across the face. The young demon's head snapped to the side, and there was a sickening crack as his jawbone fractured.

"Do not dare apologize after committing such a transgression." He hissed as he grabbed Caius's arm. The young demon flinched but did not try to escape. Resistance would only make his punishment worse. As the Devil bared his teeth and prepared to continue the punishment, another visitor appeared in the doorway.

"Mephistopheles?"

The Devil, forgetting about Caius for a moment, turned to look at the intruder, intending to command whatever demon it was to leave. Before he could make good on his threat, he recognized the latest intruder. "Sock?"

The small spirit tilted his head, confused. "Is this a bad time?"

Mephistopheles quickly let go of Caius's arm and strolled over to Sock. "Not at all. What can I do for you?"

Caius crossed his arms, forgetting his impending punishment in favor of noticing that he had once again been pushed out of the spotlight. Every time Sock entered the room, a look entered his master's eyes, a look that he never saw directed towards himself. It was a look of affection. The young demon bared his fangs; it wasn't right of this stupid, little imp to make _his_ master appear soft-hearted. He crossed his arms, growling low in his throat. He would get back at Sock when the time was right. For now, he would watch and wait.

"Mephistopheles, I need answers."

"Oh? To what sort of questions?"

Sock crossed his arms as he floated over to the fallen angel's desk. "The flashbacks aren't going away like you said they would. They're getting worse. I can barely focus on my work."

Mephistopheles sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. How much should he tell the young spirit?

Sock saw the Devil's hesitation and raised an eyebrow. Why would Mephistopheles, of all people, hesitate when answering a question? He practically got off on the suffering of the souls in Hell. Why would he risk passing up an opportunity?

"Well?" He prompted, floating a little closer to the fallen angel. Mephistopheles raised a hand, and Sock stopped, understanding he wasn't meant to come any closer. Caius smirked; it seemed the little brat was capable of following orders.

"I…I do have an idea of why you are having these flashbacks, Sock." The little spirit gestured for Mephistopheles to continue. He was in no mood for suspense. The Devil ran his fingers through his hair, clearly stressed. "Some spirits who die violent deaths, specifically deaths the Lord of Demise was not expecting, go through something myself and the Four Horsemen refer to as "Erasure". This essentially means that, once the spirit had left its body, it would slowly begin to forget everything from its past life."

A red aura had begun to form around the tiny spirit. The aura gave off such negativity and anger that even Caius was wise enough to duck out of the Devil's office. "There is a name to what's happening to me, and you…you just decided I didn't need to know?"

Mephistopheles drew himself to his full height. He did _not_ appreciate being lectured by his underlings _twice_ in one day. "What I choose to speak of is my business, Mr. Sowchowski." He replied, coldly.

"I left Jonathan because of this!" Sock screeched, aura turning to a bright scarlet. Mephistopheles sighed; he had suspected that Sock felt more for the mortal than he was letting on.

"I propose we make another deal, young Mr. Sowchowski."

"Why would I want to make another fucking deal?" Sock snapped, far past the restraints of reason. The fact that he was screaming at the Devil, the Angel of Light himself, hadn't exactly sunk in.

Mephistopheles took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm. Sock was understandably upset. He had made a deal with the Devil without being provided with all the necessary information. Though Mephistopheles often prided himself on being a trickster when making his deals, he had not intended to trick Sock. A second deal would be his chance to sort this mess out. More was on the line than Sock's silly feelings… "I think you'll want to hear me out, Sock."

Sock kicked at the desk, forgetting for a moment that he was, in fact, dead, and would pass right through the desk. When this inevitably happened, he screeched in frustration and turned back to Mephistopheles. "Fine. What's so good about this deal?"

"I will let you return to Jonathan for one full day, but there is a catch." Mephistopheles started, but before he could continue, Sock muttered something under his breath. Beginning to lose his patience, Mephistopheles crossed his arms and plastered a fake smile on his face. "What was that, Mr. Sowchowski?"

"I said, of course there's a catch. I mean, why wouldn't there be? You _are_ the Devil."

"Please let me finish, Mr. Sowchowski." Mephistopheles murmured, sounding every bit the furious school principle. When Sock didn't make any move to reply, the fallen angel continued. "You know, of course, I cannot keep changing your position. The others will begin to think I'm picking favorites and there will be rebellion. However, I can provide you with a leave of absence. You will have twenty-four hours to make amends with Mr. Jonathan Combs before you must return."

"Is that the only catch?" Sock asked softly.

 _Smart boy,_ Mephistopheles thought before replying. "Yes. You having to return to Hell after twenty-four hours is the only catch."

Sock looked down at the floor, willing himself not to cry. This was worse than any punishment Mephistopheles could have come up with, and he was positive the Devil knew it. "Fine. I accept your deal. When can I leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. Right now, I need you to return to the Ninth Circle. Charles Manson just arrived."

Sock left the room without another word, forcing himself not to cry until he was completely alone.

Standing outside the door to the Ninth Circle, Sock let out a small sob. He had left Jonathan, _his_ Jon, for something that had such a simple answer. If he'd only known what was happening to him, he never would've left…and now he only had a day to fix his mistakes. As the little spirit continued to sob, something deep inside began to twist and rot, though it would be many weeks before Sock noticed.

Back in his office, Mephistopheles groaned and closed his office door, locking it against any more visitors. Turning slowly, he gazed at the organized filing cabinets and the overall neat appearance of his office. Suddenly, it all seemed so…so _wrong_. Letting out a guttural shriek, he darted across the room, knocking over furniture and ripping files to shreds.

Throughout Mephistopheles' "fit", something that was more akin to an emotional breakdown, the very core of Hell shook. The denizens of the Circles tried to ignore it, but it was a good hour before anyone could fully relax.

Slumping against his office wall and panting raggedly, Mephistopheles gazed around his destroyed office. Though he felt much better, he knew this was a temporary solution to a pressing problem. He slid down the wall, running his fingers through his orange hair and groaned. He hadn't had to deal with one…one of those for eons. What was he supposed to do now?

 _As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I do appriciate any sort of feedback so long as it isn't of a purely negative nature. Until next time!_

 _XOXOXOXO_


	4. Abysmal Amendment

_Hello, hello! There is one little thing I would like to mention before the usual statements of gratitude. In one paragraph, we learn what Jon misses about Sock. In this paragraph, Sock's massive floof (yes, I refer to it as a floof) is mentioned. The reason for this is my best friend and beta. She was the one who showed me_ "Welcome to Hell", _and she adores Sock's hair. I do, too. So, there's the logic behind that. As usual, thank you to my beta for dealing with my mood swings and random requests for proofreading. All credit for_ Welcome to Hell _itself goes to Erica Wester, the creator. I take credit for all of my ideas. Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!_

"Jonathan, please let us in!"

The teenager turned his head in the direction of his bedroom door and stuck his tongue out as his parents continued to plead for him to let them in. It wasn't like that they had great cause to worry. He wasn't planning to end his life or anything like that, much to the disappointment of Caius. He wasn't so sure about Sock's feelings toward the matter.

Sock. He was the root of all Jon's problems. Now he wasn't upset with the little spirit, but he had been unable to focus on much of anything since he had come to the realization that he would never see Sock again. He would never get to right his wrongs. With a sigh, he knew he had to admit it to himself: he cared about the little idiot. He missed so many of Sock's quirks that it was ridiculous.

He missed the way Sock somehow managed to be clumsy, even though he was a spirit and could float through and above everything. He missed Sock's amazement at his old music collection, missing the way they could jam away to the trashiest music for hours on end. He missed the way Sock always remained optimistic about everything, including the stab wound in his chest. He missed Sock's silly attempts at doing his job and missed laughing when they joked about how ironic it was that Jonathan had started smiling more when a suicide spirit entered his life. He missed having a little idiot following him everywhere and laughing at Sock's criticisms about American Horror Story. The little spirit claimed the spirits and demons from the show were a joke compared to what he'd seen in Hell. He even missed Sock's huge mop of hair, something he had begun to endearingly refer to as Sock's "floof".

He missed everything about Sock, and he wasn't sure how he would deal with this empty house of memories.

His parents' persistent cries brought Jon back to reality. He sighed and got up from his desk chair. Sock wasn't coming back, and no amount of bullshit rituals was going to bring him back. As Jon let his parents into his bedroom, a funny thought occurred to him. He hadn't seen Caius all day…Weird.

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Sock floated into Mephistopheles's office, looking the worse for wear. He didn't bother clearing his throat to get the Devil's attention, knowing Mephistopheles would eventually pull his head away from the many files covering his desk. Besides, he wasn't in any hurry to see Jonathan…right?

After a few minutes – much quicker than Sock had expected – Mephistopheles looked up from his desk. "Oh! Hello, Mr. Sowchowski. I didn't hear you come in." He chuckled, an oddly pleasant sound. "Imagine that, the Angel of Light being caught unawares by a wee spirit."

Sock only nodded, looking at the floor in silence. In fact, Mephistopheles noticed with a growing sense of worry, that was the only indication he'd gotten to let him know Sock had heard him. Actually, there was a lot more to consider about Sock in this moment other than his uncharacteristic silence. Mephistopheles had been prepared for an excited, perhaps even ecstatic Sock to bound into his office, eagerly questioning when he could leave for Jonathan's house. Instead, he had been greeted with a Sock whose form seemed twisted somehow. Rather than a young boy, the spirit in front of Mephistopheles seemed to waver in front of his eyes, at times looking like the Sock he knew and at other times looking like a hulking, black mass shot through with threads of silver and crimson.

 _'It's getting worse.'_ Mephistopheles thought before continuing his one-sided conversation with Sock. "I assume you've come to ask when you can visit Jonathan." Again, the little ghost only nodded. Mephistopheles bit his lip before continuing. "You may leave in one hour. I expect you back in my office twenty-four hours from then." Again, came the infernal nod. Mephistopheles held back a groan as the little spirit floated out of his office. He had not spoken a single word. However, Mephistopheles noticed something significant when Sock left. As the young spirit turned to leave, he shuddered violently. While the shudder coursed through his small form, Sock had warped from a sweet and slightly eccentric boy to a twisted shape that worried even the Devil.

The shape appeared human-like at first; however, it quickly shifted into something that more closely resembled a spiral-shaped cloud. As odd as it sounded, it almost looked like a decaying DNA strand. Colored in shades of vibrant reds, yellows, crimsons, and silvers, the shape seemed to waver and almost collapse before leaving the room. Mephistopheles shook himself, still not quite willing to admit what was happening to Sock. When he looked back at his doorway, all he saw was the tips of Sock's shoes turning and floating away.

He slumped in his desk and covered his face with his hands, gritting his teeth. What was he going to do?!

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When Jonathan returned home from school that day, his usual scowl firmly in place, he was expecting what he had come to know as the usual: Caius's pathetic attempts at torment as he tried to do his schoolwork and his parents' frantic attempts at caring for a son who they believed was mentally unstable.

He was greeted with something quite different, however.

As he walked up to his room, he noticed that Caius was once again absent. Though he found it odd that the demon would be MIA for two days in a row, he wasn't really worried about it. After all, this wouldn't be the first time a supernatural creature had abandoned him, and he hadn't even cared about this one.

Going to open his door, he noticed that it had been left ajar. Quite sure that he'd left it closed this morning, he frowned. Sock had always left his bedroom door open just a crack, hoping to annoy Jon. Though it worked, he hadn't let on to his irritation. Sock kept up with it, though, leaving doors open whenever he could. Sock wasn't here anymore, so he couldn't have done this. Jonathan must've just forgotten to close the door all the way this morning. Shrugging it off, he opened his door the rest of the way and raised his arm to toss his book bag onto his bed.

Floating an inch or so above the bed was Napoleon Maxwell Sowchowski. Jonathan dropped his bag, ignoring the thud as it hit the ground and spilled all its contents on to the bedroom floor.

"Sock?" Jonathan exclaimed, mouth hanging open in an almost comical fashion.

The little spirit nodded and smiled sadly. "Hello, Jonathan."

If Jon hadn't been in such a state of shock, he would've noticed that there was something fundamentally wrong with the little spirit. However, all he could focus on was the fact that Sock was here. He was in Jon's house!

"Sock, what are you doing here? I thought you'd left…" Jonathan couldn't help the touch of sadness that entered his voice. He really had missed the little idiot.

"I did leave." Sock murmured, tonelessly. "You hurt me, and I hurt you. So, I went to Mephistopheles and asked for a new position. I've been working in the Ninth Circle of Hell, tormenting the worst of the worst."

"So…why are you back?" Jon questioned, cautiously. He was afraid to get his hopes up. He had now also noticed that something about Sock was…off. There was no other way to describe the little spirit. He looked like Sock, and he talked as much Sock had, but there was something different about him, something Jonathan couldn't quite place his finger on.

For the first time, a hint of emotion entered the little spirit's eyes. Jonathan noted, and not without a touch of worry, that it was fear. "I…um…The flashbacks have been getting worse."

"Are you here because you're hoping I'll help?" Jonathan questioned, sounding hopeful himself. Though he hadn't expected the flashbacks to be brought up, he was, in a way, glad that they had. A fearful Sock was easier to deal with than an emotionless Sock. If he needed to talk about the freaky flashbacks, so be it.

"Sort of…" Sock murmured, lowering himself until he was barely hovering above Jon's bed. "I came to clear the air between us, Jonathan. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted during our fight."

"Is that all?" Jonathan couldn't help but laugh, relieved. He crossed his room and reached for Sock's hands. Profoundly relieved, he noticed that Sock eagerly returned the gesture. "Sock, you don't have to apologize. It's my fault for not being more understanding. You were terrified and all I did was snap at you. I should be the one apologizing."

Sock shook his head, holding onto Jon's hands tightly. "No! You don't understand, Jon…" Sock's voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "Mephistopheles told me why I was having flashbacks. It had such a simple answer…I never had to run away!" He began to tremble. Jonathan, not knowing what else to do, pulled Sock close and rubbed the little spirit's back.

"What's causing the flashbacks?" He asked, hoping to move the subject away from Sock's sudden departure.

The little spirit snuggled close, moving his hands to cling to the front of Sock's hoodie. "Mephistopheles said that people who died…died like I did are sometimes susceptible to something he and the Four Horsemen call "Erasure". He said afflicted spirits begin to forget about their past lives shortly after their death. Before too long, they've forgotten almost everything. Then the memories suddenly come back…"

Jonathan continued to rub the little spirit's back and nodded. That made sense. He had read that spirits who had died violent deaths often didn't know anything about themselves after the fact because of the shock. It was logical that Sock, someone who had stabbed himself in the chest, was experiencing something similar. However, something was still bothering Jonathan. "Erasure" explained the presence of the flashbacks, but it didn't explain why Sock wasn't acting like himself. There was an…aura coming off Sock, an aura that reminded Jonathan strongly of illness and death.

"Is that why you were so shaken up?" He asked, softly, somehow sensing that there was something else bothering the little ghost.

"I…" Sock trailed off and began to pull away from Jonathan. Not willing to lose Sock a second time, Jonathan held onto the little spirit tightly. Sensing that the blonde wouldn't give up easily, the tiny ghost sighed. "No. It's not the only thing bothering me."

"Well?" Jon prompted.

Sock bit his lip. "I…I can't stay, Jon."

"What do you mean, you can't stay?" Jonathan all but yelled, upset. He had been over the moon when Sock used his nickname, and then he had registered what else had been said. He couldn't lose Sock again; he wouldn't be able to bear the loss a second time.

The little spirit rested his head on Jonathan's chest. He didn't want to be sad or angry. He just wanted to enjoy what little time he had left with Jon. "Mephistopheles is only allowing me to stay for twenty-four hours. I've already been here for seven hours, meaning I only have seventeen hours left."

"What kind of deal is that?" Jonathan snapped, holding Sock as close as he could. He wasn't upset with Sock, but he was angry with Mephistopheles. What kind of cruel trick was this? Was he being punished for falling for a dead man?

"Mephistopheles said he couldn't allow another change in position because the other demons would think he was playing favorites."

"So, he's saying this is the best he could offer?" Sock nodded, and Jonathan bowed his head, hiding the tears that had appeared in the corners of his eyes. He had done what he said he wouldn't do…He had gotten his hopes up, and now he was losing Sock, _his_ Sock, again…

"I know it hurts…" Sock murmured, holding onto Jonathan and feeling the blonde's tears fall through his body. They made an interesting pattern as they fell on the bedspread. "I don't want to leave, but I've only been offered a short amount of time. I don't wanna spend it mourning."

Jonathan nodded and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "You're right. What do you want to do?"

As Sock brainstormed, Jonathan allowed himself to focus on what had been bothering him. Sock's form kept wavering. Instead of Sock's small body, a warped and twisted shape, something that was almost shaped like a DNA strand floated above the bed…

 _Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my little story. I really appreciate it. A special thank you goes to carrycherry61, who was the first one to favorite and follow this fic. Thank you so much for the love! As usual, constructive criticism is appreciated, but flat-out negativity is not. Until next time!_

 _XOXOXOXO_


	5. Studying the Beast

_Ah, sweet, sweet mystery. Other than the usual, I have one new announcement. I have set up an updating and writing schedule for this story. This story will be updated every Sunday, and I will, without fail, write a chapter every Tuesday and Thursday. So, hopefully chapters start coming out more quickly. As per usual, thank you to my beta for looking this over and offering suggestions. "_ Welcome to Hell" _belongs to Erica Wester. I only take credit for my ideas. Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!_

Jonathan had once again locked his bedroom door and was currently ignoring his parents, who were pleading with him to come out and at least play a board game or something. Jonathan had other things in mind and had asked to be alone while he worked on his homework. He'd been ignoring them ever since.

Sock, or what had once been Sock, was still floating above the bed, gazing at Jonathan. The blonde wasn't sure how to exactly describe the little spirit; the only word that came to mind was "illness". Sock had gotten sick somehow.

The little ghost tilted his head, causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. "What are you thinking about? You're obviously not doing your homework."

Jonathan blushed slightly, grateful that Sock didn't have the ability to read minds like Caius did. "I was just…Sock, are you okay?"

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be?" Sock questioned. Jonathan noticed that the aura around the DNA helix that Sock sometimes shifted into darkened. He, or it, was upset.

"I'm not sure. It feels like you aren't well…"

"I feel fine, Jonathan. I thought we agreed to not dwell on the negativity of the past? Why don't we have an _American Horror Story_ marathon? I know another season has come out."

"Yeah, that sounds good. I want to hear your opinion on this season's demons."

Sock smiled, causing the helix shape to almost disappear completely. However, it quickly returned, and it seemed to feel…threatened…Before he could dwell too much on this, Jonathan grabbed his laptop and logged into Netflix. Getting on the bed, he leaned against his pillows and started the first episode of season six. Sock moved until he was curled up in Jonathan's side.

Though neither boy noticed it, the helix shape completely disappeared once the episode started.

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"You fired me?!"

Mephistopheles whined, covering his ears to drown out Caius's screeching. Keeping his ears covered, Mephistopheles watched as Caius had what could only be described as a temper tantrum. He was kicking furniture, jumping up and down, and screaming like a toddler. Once he was sure Caius had exhausted himself, Mephistopheles lowered his hands and raised an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

"I suppose so." Caius muttered, crossing his arms and sulking.

"Good. Now before you throw another fit, let me explain. I did not fire you. I made a deal with Sock; he has twenty-fours to spend with Jonathan. After that, he returns to the Ninth Circle, and you return to your post. Do you understand now?"

Caius nodded, though he still looked displeased. "So, my duties are being set aside so you can do a favor for that imp?"

Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow and growled in warning. Caius looked away, still sulking.

"I highly doubt that my reasoning is your business, Caius. That may change when we marry, but as of right now, you have no right to question me."

At the mention of the wedding, Caius looked back at Mephistopheles, face lighting up. He had been hoping that Mephistopheles would want to discuss wedding plans. It certainly would distract him from this latest betrayal.

"Speaking of the wedding, should we not begin planning?"

Glad that the conversation had changed from Sock to wedding plans, Mephistopheles nodded and gestured for Caius to come closer to the desk. Though he had no desire to plan a wedding now, he wanted to talk about Sock even less.

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Sock had no desire to talk about Mephistopheles either. Every time Jon tried to bring the fallen angel up in conversation, Sock would quickly steer it away. He didn't want to focus on the Devil and his deals; he wanted to spend what little time he had left with Jonathan happy.

Jonathan, knowing how stubborn Sock could be, decided that the conversation would be best steered toward trivial matters. It was clear that he wasn't going to get a straight answer from the little ghost, so Jonathan decided on a less conventional approach.

While Sock jabbered on about this and that, Jonathan focused on the little spirit's appearance. It didn't seem like Sock was able to sense the DNA helix shape. The helix, however, seemed perfectly capable of sensing Sock. It almost seemed to change with Sock's mood. Whenever Jonathan brought up Mephistopheles, the helix shape darkened, becoming more opaque. In fact, it almost felt like, the more upset Sock became, the less control he had over the actions of the helix.

What would happen if he brought up the shape? As soon as he'd had the thought, he felt instantly fearful. Instinctively, he knew if he asked Sock about the helix shape, something terrible would happen.

It seemed observation and research was the best way to go.

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Mephistopheles gazed at the floating sphere, ignoring the flickers of purple and gold light that sparked off the Sybil. A round glass sphere that floated about five feet off the ground, the Sybil had limited yet extremely helpful powers. Capable of peering several days into the future as well as into the present, the Sybil had allowed Mephistopheles to make many a difficult decision; it also allowed him to keep an eye on his friends and enemies. As of right now, the Sybil was allowing Mephistopheles to watch Sock's visit with Jonathan.

Sock was getting worse; it seemed sending Sock to Jonathan hadn't been the wisest decision. The Cataclysm did not like Jonathan or, at the very least, didn't like Jonathan seeking answers. Each time Jonathan brought up something that wasn't related to trivial and meaningless conversation, the Cataclysm growled and took more control over Sock.

"It seems we're feeling a little feisty, yeah?" Mephistopheles murmured, rubbing his chin in thought. It appeared he was running out of options. If the Cataclysm wasn't distracted by a Being of Light, there was very little Mephistopheles could do to remove the creature. He ran a hand through his orange hair, letting out a frustrated groan. He didn't know what to do, and he was running out of time.

Continuing to watch the Sybil, Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow. Jonathan was studying Sock intently, a worried look on his pale face. As Mephistopheles watched, Jonathan bit his lip, clearly afraid. Sock, distracted and weak, did not notice.

 _'He can see the Cataclysm.'_ Mephistopheles thought, eyes lighting up. It appeared there was a chance at ending the problem before it really began.

 _Hope ya'll enjoyed the chapter! As usual, suggestions, constructive criticism, and the like are appreciated. Flat-out negativity is not. See you guys next time!_

 _XOXOXOXO_


	6. The Breaking Point

_Hello, my wonderful readers! It is time to return to the angst pit known as this fic. I have no special announcements, only the usual. I do not own_ Welcome to Hell _in any way, shape, or form. That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I only own my personal ideas. A huge thank you goes to my beta and best friend who is always willing to read over my chapters no matter what. I love you, cos-cos! Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!_

When he was sure that Sock was distracted by cute cat videos, Jonathan pulled his phone out of his hoody pocket and opened the Internet. Typing quickly, he pressed enter and silently prayed that the Wi-Fi would move quickly. It did not. Jon spent the next couple of minutes looking between his phone and Sock, nervous. When the page did finally load up, Jonathan couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Sock glanced over, confused.

"You okay, Jon?"

Smiling slightly at the use of his nickname, Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, I was worried I wouldn't be able to check my grades, but the Wi-Fi finally started to work."

Sock nodded, knowing how important Jonathan's grades were to him, and returned his attention to the cat videos. Jonathan, meanwhile, quickly began to peruse the information he'd looked up:

 **ILLNESSES THAT AFFECT SPIRITS**

There was nothing on the page that explicitly said ghosts could get sick, but there was one paragraph heading that caught Jon's interest. As he read the information that followed the heading, Jonathan's eyebrows slowly rose. While it was not known if spirits and other supernatural beings could become ill, it was suspected that emotions played a large role in the afterlife. Specifically, the sudden loss or return of memories could turn even the most benevolent of spirits into malevolent ghouls. However, there was nothing about spirits completely changing forms. Jonathan bit back a groan, frustrated at the lack of answers. At least the emotions bit was applicable. Sock _had_ been acting differently since the flashbacks started.

With a small sigh, Jon put his phone back in his pocket. If nothing else, he had something to go off of. Now he only needed a plan. Should he try to summon Mephistopheles and interrogate him? Or should he risk the helix's wrath and ask Sock about what was happening? Would it be wise to attempt trapping Sock until he figured out what was going on? Would he have the emotional strength to trap his best friend in some voodoo circle?

As Jon sat on the edge of his bed, trying to come up with a plan, something within Sock was becoming suspicious. He tried to write it off as illogical paranoia but found that he couldn't. Some dark, poisonous part of his mind kept whispering doubts. At the forefront of these worries was a single thought:

 _'Jonathan is up to something.'_

"Jonathan," Sock began, slowly lowering the laptop lid. "What were you really looking at?"

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, eyebrow arched slightly. "I told you, I was checking my grades. It's almost the end of the semester."

"You're lying." Sock said softly. "You think something is wrong with me, and you were checking Google for answers! You think I'm sick, don't you?"

Jonathan didn't see the point in lying. "Yes. There's something different about you, and I can't quite figure out what it is."

"Then why didn't you just ask?" Sock snapped. Jon, however, couldn't think logically. As he watched, Sock's teeth seemed to lengthen, almost sharpening. His back hunched, and a pair of black, feathery wings exploded from his back. To Jon, the wings seemed to be a mockery of angel wings. Mostly black, the wings were shot through with streaks of crimson, silver, red, and sickly yellows. Even this single feature gave off an aura of sickness.

"I knew you'd get upset. I thought if I could find answers, I would be able to think of a way to help you." Jon replied, surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

"So, you tricked me?" The creature that had once been Sock shrieked, moving until his face was only inches away from Jonathan's.

The blonde shook his head quickly, moving away from the demon quickly. "No. I wasn't going to keep anything I found out from you. I just wanted to collect my thoughts before I spoke with you."

Sock-not-Sock tilted his head to the side, listening to a voice only he could hear. Then he returned his focus to Jonathan. "Only helping?" If Jonathan hadn't been as panicked as he was, he would've noticed that Sock's voice seemed to have changed; it had grown deeper in pitch, almost a growl. He also would've noticed that Sock's speech, once fluent, almost seemed to resemble a person speaking broken English.

"Yes, I was only trying to help." Jonathan replied, nodding in agreement.

Once again, the little demon seemed to be listening to a voice only he could hear. He nodded, agreeing with whoever he was listening to. Jonathan bit his lip, instinctively sensing that Sock was not receiving good counsel from whoever he was "speaking" with. After what seemed like forever, Sock looked at Jonathan with hazy eyes. Later, Jonathan would think it was the look of a puppet.

"Still wrong." The creature murmured, gazing at Jon with glassy eyes. Jonathan swallowed nervously. He didn't know what to do; nothing he could say felt like a safe response. The creature shook his head, grinning and baring his sharp teeth.

"Sock go now."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When he realized what was going to happen, he rushed forward, meaning to grab the demon's arm. "Wait!"

Before anything else could be done, Sock disappeared. There was no cloud of smoke, no flash of bright light, and no sound. Sock was just gone.

 _As always, I hope everyone enjoyed this week's chappie. Constructive criticism and the like are always appreciated, but pure negativity is not. I'll see you soon!_

 ** _XOXOXOXO_**


	7. Within the Mind of Insanity

_Hello, my lovelies! It's that wonderful time of week again: it's time for some Monday angst! As always, a big thank you goes to my beta for even looking this over in the first place. Bless my cos-cos. Second, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell. _That is the property of Erica Wester. The only parts of this story I own are my original ideas. Also, there is a part of the story that may or may not be highlighted. I have a new laptop and still figuring things out, so please bear with me. Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!_

Mephistopheles flung the Sybil across his office, watching with vicious satisfaction as the glass orb shattered against a wall. Breathing heavily, he stormed across the small room and punched a wall, hard. Since he was the Devil, he felt no pain; however, there was a huge dent in the wall, and cracks snaked out from this mark. Nostrils flared, he left his office, roughly pushing anyone aside who had the misfortune of getting in his way.

How could Jonathan be so stupid? He had angered the Cataclysm by admitting to his investigation. Had no one taught the fool to guard his mind from demons and their spawn? Now the Cataclysm, a creature Sock now had no control over, was roaming the mortal realm. Who knows how much havoc it had already caused!

Mephistopheles froze in the middle of the hallway, taking a moment to consider the implications of his frenzied thoughts. He was being stupid. He knew no one had taught Jonathan Combs to guard his mind. Most mortals did not focus on such supernatural affairs anymore. Therefore, it had been an error in Mephistopheles's judgement that had set the Cataclysm free. He had assumed that Jonathan's strange affection for the eccentric little ghost would confuse and perhaps even disable the Cataclysm. This had been an error in judgement as well. Since Jonathan and Sock's last conversation had been a bitter argument, feelings were already strained between the two. Sending an afflicted spirit to such a hostile environment might very well have been the worst thing Mephistopheles could have done. Sock's illness gained life from despair; it must have had a feast! That coupled with the recent events had been nothing but a Molotov cocktail, something that would be ready to blow at any moment.

He had to speak with Jonathan.

Jonathan frantically clicked through article after article, looking for something that would help explain what had happened to Sock. At the very least, he hoped to find a way to get Sock back to the Comb house. He didn't know what else to do. It wasn't like he could walk up and down the streets, calling the little ghost's name. It wouldn't be productive, and his neighbors would call the police, thinking the weird emo boy next door had finally gone crazy. So, it seemed his best bet would be research.

As he scanned an article about emotions and spirits, someone appeared behind him and cleared his throat. Jonathan whirled around, startled.

"What the he-?" He began, but once he realized who was standing in his room, he sighed. "Oh. It's you."

Though he had never met Mephistopheles, he had heard enough from Sock to know that the being standing before him was, in fact, the Devil. He matched Sock's descriptions perfectly, right down to the orange facial hair. However, Jon would've suspected that this was the Devil, even if he hadn't been given a description. Mephistopheles radiated an aura of power and malice as well as cleverness.

"Yes, it's me." Mephistopheles replied, surprised by the lack of fear and awe in Jon's voice. He was used to mortals having such reactions. After all, his presence usually signified an ill future for those mortals he chose to visit. However, he was also aware that Sock must've told Jon about his time with the Devil. Perhaps his reaction really wasn't that surprising.

"Should I assume you're here to talk about Sock and what's happening to him?" Jonathan asked, interrupting the fallen angel's reveries. Mephistopheles cleared his throated again and nodded.

"Yes. I need you to understand several things about this." When Jon didn't say anything in response, Mephistopheles continued. "I know you believe Sock is sick. You are correct in that line of thinking. Though he is not afflicted with a typical illness, he is still in danger."

"From himself or from something you caused?" Jonathan questioned coldly. For a moment, Mephistopheles considered slapping Jon upside the head. He was annoyed, as mortals did not usually see it fit to speak to the Devil in such a manner. Somehow, he held himself in check. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "He is in danger from what lives within him. It is not something I have much power over. Sock has been infected with what is known as a Cataclysm."

"And are you going to explain what that is, or are you going to leave me in the dark? I want to help Sock, but I can't if I don't know what the fuck is wrong with him."

Once again, Mephistopheles had to refrain himself from punishing Jonathan. Considering the circumstances, he could not believe Jonathan Combs refused to hold his tongue and allow Mephistopheles to do his job.

"I will give you as much information as I am able, but only if you stop interrupting me." When Jon remained silent, Mephistopheles continued. "Good. Now, a Cataclysm is similar to a being you know as a poltergeist. Though most believe that a poltergeist is either an angry spirit or demon, the reality is quite different. Poltergeists are the result of severe negative emotions held by mortals in an area that is abundant with supernatural energy. A Cataclysm is not much different. Do you understand so far?"

Jon nodded, now more interested than angry. "So, Sock is being affected by intense emotions?"

"In a way, yes. Caius told you about the two types of Beings, yes?"

"Yeah. He said there were Beings born of Light and Beings born of Darkness."

"And do you know which is which?" Mephistopheles asked gently, wondering how heavily this sort of information would weigh on a mortal mind.

"There's only one major difference, right? Being of the Light means you haven't hurt anyone, including yourself. Being of the Dark means you have. Caius also told me about that curse, the one with the demon lady." Jon added this last bit seemingly as an afterthought.

Mephistopheles nodded, pleased that Jonathan had remembered this bit of information. "Well done, Mr. Combs. All of this is connected in multiple and complex ways. The most basic way I can explain the situation is this: Auriol once chose one of Sock's ancestors as a lover. Because of this, Sock and his family members are not mortals but half-breeds. The presence of demon blood in the family led to not a few serial killers and other deviants; Sock was not the first to kill. However, having demon blood in the family also created a curse. Each time, a Sowchowski turned from Light to Dark, the monstrous urges felt by later members of the family grew. By the time Sock was born, he could think of almost nothing except these urges. Therefore, it really is no surprise that he killed his parents in his sleep. He didn't stand a chance." Mephistopheles sounded remorseful, though Jonathan found it hard to believe that the Devil could feel anything akin to remorse.

"Sock was doomed to murder no matter what he did?" Jonathan asked softly, and Mephistopheles nodded.

"I'm afraid so, and these urges continue to poison him. It was one of the reasons I sent him to you and then placed him in the Ninth Circle. I had hoped that some sort of malicious intent would keep the urges at bay. However, for reasons I am not yet able to disclose to you, that did not work as I had hoped."

Jonathan sat on the edge of his bed, slowly digesting the information. He knew he wouldn't be able to convince Mephistopheles to give him any more information, but he couldn't help but wonder what other factors had affected Sock's illness. He sighed and crossed his arms. Though he was grateful for the information he had been given, information he had not been expecting to receive unless he conducted hours and hours of research, he did not like being left in the dark after being given a glimpse of light. After thinking over what had been said a second time, he allowed a small smile to grace his features. If nothing else, now he had a lead.

Mephistopheles gave Jon a few minutes more to consider what he had learned before continuing. "Sock will have no choice but to return to Hell and to the Ninth Circle once his twenty-four hours are up. He has made a deal with me, and he must abide by it, Cataclysm or no Cataclysm. Until this happens, I need you to avoid Sock to the best of your ability." He held up a hand, seeing that Jon was about to protest. "I know you want to help, and I may very well need that help before long. But for now, I need you to keep yourself safe. I know that sounds odd coming from me, but I cannot allow the Cataclysm to kill you, which is undoubtedly what it intends to do should it return to this house. This is for two reasons. The first is that the Cataclysm will grow stronger for each mortal it kills, thus worsening an already terrible problem. The second applies to laws I must abide by. Unless Sock or Caius were to convince you to kill yourself, I would not be allowed to take you before your time was up. So, please, keep yourself as safe as possible."

Jonathan, looking livid but resigned, nodded. "Fine." He couldn't even apply conditions to the situation. If he did, it would constitute as a deal with the Devil, and he wasn't quite prepared to go to such lengths.

Mephistopheles nodded and bowed. "Thank you for your cooperation." And with that, he disappeared.

Jon clenched his fists, then stood and punched the wall behind his bed, causing a series of cracks that were similar to those in Mephistopheles's office. He couldn't believe he had been given critical information and then left to wait for more news as if he were a small child. He crossed his arms and sat back down, simmering. He knew Mephistopheles was right; he couldn't risk his life and make matters worse. But the only thing he could do now was continue in his research. Though that would certainly help Jon understand what was happening to the man he loved, he didn't see how that was going to be of further use. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Sock floated through the streets, not noticing when he passed through a man and caused a shiver to go up his spine. He was too focused on keeping the voices at bay.

 _'_ _Go back! You have to kill the betrayer!'_

 _'_ _No! I need to find Mephistopheles! He can help.'_

 _'_ _You really think the King of Hell wants you now? You're marred, imperfect…'_

 _'_ _Well, he's technically not the King…He's more like a businessman…'_

 _'_ _Silence! It doesn't matter if he is the King of Hell or a citizen. He's just like everyone else, so you can't trust him. After all, nobody wants you…Your parents certainly didn't. Why do you think you murdered them?'_

Sock froze, ignoring the startled glances of the living as they noticed the sudden cold spot in the middle of the sidewalk. He remembered killing his parents; that had been one of the first memories to return. However, what the "Voice" was saying didn't make sense. Though he still couldn't remember everything, he didn't remember feeling any hatred prior to his parents' murder. After realizing this inconsistency, Sock doubled over, clutching his head. It felt like he was being split into two. Vision doubling, he floated clumsily over to the edge of the sidewalk and lowered himself until he was just above the ground. This didn't help, though, and the pain increased rather than lessened. He cried out and beat his fists against the side of his head, not knowing how else to make the screaming voice in his head stop.

 _'_ _HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF LYING? I AM YOUR ONLY FRIEND, THE ONLY ONE YOU CAN TRUST.'_

The little ghost shook his head, whimpering. The "Voice" had never been this loud before…

****************************** **FLASHBACK ************************************

Sock had first started to hear the "Voice" about a week before he started to remember things. At first, it hadn't seemed like a big deal. The "Voice" only observed, occasionally commenting on something that either Sock or Jon had done. Thinking it had something to do with the return of his memories, Sock simply ignored it.

The progression of this torture was imperceptible. Some days, the "Voice" would seem to be a little louder, but Sock often wrote it off as his imagination. It was only when the "Voice" began to attempt controlling Sock's actions that the little spirit started to worry. This, too, started small. He would start to go left when the "Voice" wanted to go right, or the "Voice" would suggest being a little more malicious toward Jonathan. At first, Sock was easily able to ignore these suggestions. Soon, however, the "Voice" became more insistent, and Sock, frightened, had run away from Jonathan's home. No longer able to blame his imagination or the return of his memories, Sock had fled to Hell. Something was seriously wrong, and he needed Mephistopheles's help.

*********************** **END OF FLASHBACK** *********************************

After what felt like ages, the sensation of being ripped in two faded, and Sock could open his eyes. The headache was fading along with the tunnel vision. He returned to a standing position shakily, noticing, for the first time, that his surroundings had changed. He was back in the Ninth Circle. For once, Sock was pleased about this. In all the chaos, he had forgotten his promise to Mephistopheles. Ironically, it seemed that his deal with the Devil had been Sock's saving grace.

Looking around, Sock noticed that his workspace was more crowded than usual. There was a group of souls standing before Sock, a group that practically radiated scorn for the little ghost. Floating a few inches higher, Sock noticed that the group was actually a line that stretched all the way to the main doorway. He groaned; it looked like he had his work cut out for him. Snapping his fingers and bringing a whip covered in white-hot fire into existence, Sock grabbed one of the spirits who had been standing in the front and dragged her to one of the torture stations, ignoring her demands that he release her _immediately_. After realizing that she wouldn't be released, the spirit began to cry, thinking there had been some sort of mistake. There was no way she deserved this _level_ of punishment. There had been no such mistake, and Sock strapped her to a table, using newly developed powers to keep her from moving. Continuing to ignore her screams, he raised his whip and glanced over his shoulder at the group of spirits that were beginning to shuffle closer to him. He sighed, not liking the hopeful looks in their tear-filled eyes.

It was going to be a _long_ eternity.

Mephistopheles watched from the doorway as Sock began to torture a spirit, frowning. Normally, he would be pleased that Sock was taking his duties seriously, but now he could only worry about the strength torture was giving the Cataclysm. There were so many things preventing him from fixing this that he found it to be ridiculous and frustrating. He couldn't very well find someone else to take over the duties of head torturer. None of the other demons or spirits would even go near the door, meaning Sock was the heart and soul of the Ninth Circle. The Devil groaned; this meant that, along with his exposure to pure malice, Sock had been isolated.

A few of the spirits looked over at the Devil curiously before putting their heads together, gossiping. Too distracted to be annoyed by the disrespect the "newbies" were showing him, Mephistopheles ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in orange tufts. He had dug himself into a hole, and he had no way to get back out.

God was going to kill him.

Death gazed into the looking glass, glowering. Leave it to his younger brother to set a Cataclysm loose. Father was going to be furious.

 _As always, I hope you enjoyed the chappie! Constructive criticism and the like are always appreciated, but flat-out negativity is not. See you soon!_

 ** _XOXOXOXO_**


	8. Treason and Trust

_Hello, hello! It's that time of the week again! *bows with a flourish* That's right, it is once again time for me to spread mystery and angst throughout the lands! *cue maniacal laughter* Anywho...As always, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell _. That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I own my ideas and nothing else. Also, a big thank you goes out to my beta who is willing to look things over no matter what. I love her dearly. Without further ado, please enjoy the chappie!_

Caius floated into the Combs boy's house grumpily. Though he had loudly protested against losing his new position, he hadn't actually wanted to return to the foolish mortal's house. He hated that Mephistopheles, _his_ fiancee, had lowered his position to such a degree. Oh, well. At least he could take satisfaction from the fact that he would soon be leading Jonathan Combs straight to Hell.

He smiled and began to plan how exactly he would go about this. As devious plots ran through his mind, he ran straight into the front door of the Combs house. Spluttering furiously, Caius looked up at the house. Why couldn't he get in? A quick study of the house gave him the answer. The mortal brat had put wards up around his house. Caius had been defeated by Jonathan Combs's research. Letting out a screech of fury, he pounded his fists against the door, knowing full well that Jonathan could hear him. He would not be denied his satisfaction by a petty human. Lips curling into a sneer, Caius continued to pound on the door. Jonathan would have to let him in eventually.

Jonathan had an entirely different opinion on that matter. He could sense Caius's presence and was well aware that the demon wanted to come inside. Jonathan, however, had something else in mind.

Last night, he had Googled how to ward a house against a demon and had been taken to a site seemingly run by Catholic priests. Whether or not the site was reputable didn't matter; the wards were holding up. Caius couldn't get in, and Jonathan could continue his research in peace.

"Continue his research, hm?" Caius mused aloud, backing away from the door as he did so. "He honestly believes he can help that idiotic sprite by conducting a study?" The demon scoffed as a smirk slowly appeared on his face. It didn't matter if Jonathan would be able to help Sock or not through the use of this "Google". Caius had a way in, and that's all that mattered. Still smirking, Caius left the front door and made his way to the side of the house. There, he found Jonathan's bedroom window and lightly tapped on the glass. Chuckling as he watched Jonathan topple out of his chair, Caius smirked and waited patiently.

Grumbling, Jonathan crossed the room and opened the window, glaring at Caius. "What do you want? Shouldn't you be off fawning over Mephistopheles? Isn't that what demons do?"

Caius bared his teeth, not liking the jab that was clearly directed at himself and his beloved finance. Back in the times of castles and kings, mortals had been fearful of even thinking his beloved's name. Now they threw the treasured name around as if it were nothing more than a triviality.

"I very much doubt you want to speak of my lord that way." He hissed, leaning forward until he was inches away from Jonathan's face. Now that Jonathan had opened the window, he had granted Caius passage into the house. He could do whatever he pleased, and he fully intended rip Jonathan Combs's-

Wait.

The mortal boy was already suffering plenty because of what was happening to that stupid ghost. Because of Sock, Jonathan had been forgetting about his most basic needs. Now that Sock had seemingly gone insane, Jonathan could think of nothing else but saving the man he loved. His thoughts had been consumed by a low-level sprite. Caius smiled and his eyes lit up with a malicious joy.

This was going to be fun.

"You know it is your fault, right?" He asked softly, forcing himself to look sympathetic. As a demon, he was not used to feeling such emotions. A grimace rather than a caring smile had appeared on his face, and his eyes were still filled with nothing but malicious intent. Honestly, he looked more like he was in pain than anything else. Jonathan backed away from the window without thinking, suddenly frightened.

"What do you mean? What's my fault?" He questioned, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Sock's condition, of course. You are the cause of his illness, and if you don't listen to me, his sickness will only grow worse."

"Why should I listen to you? I have no reason to trust you." Jonathan snapped, regaining some of his confidence.

Caius only smiled. Somehow, this was worse than the false sympathy, and Jonathan lost all of his bravado.

"Let's make a deal." Caius replied, holding out his hand. "I will promise to bring no harm to either you or Sock as well as providing information that will aide you in your quest to heal your lost love." Caius's smile widened when he noticed Jonathan flinch at the mention of a "lost love". Feeding off the negativity, he continued. "In exchange, I want you to make a deal with Mephistopheles."

"A deal with the Devil? Why would I do that? Hasn't enough happened already? Besides, Mephistopheles told me not to get involved."

Caius gritted his teeth, internally screaming. First, his fiancee spent more time with that clumsy fool Sock than he did with Caius, and now he was preventing anyone else from getting involved in the mess he himself had caused? That was most certainly not going to be the case. Mephistopheles wasn't getting off the hook that easily.

"And I'm telling you that this is the only way to save Sock." He pressed, entering the room through the window and stretching out his hand for Jonathan to take. "Don't you want to save him? All Mephistopheles is going to do is keep him in the Ninth Circle. Mephistopheles told you what a Cataclysm was, yes? Do you really believe that the Ninth Circle is a good environment for that sort of creature? It will grow stronger, and the wounds it has caused will fester as they become infected. Sock as you know him will die, and the Cataclysm will take over? Is that the fate you wish for your lost love?"

Jonathan knew it was unwise. He was probably making the biggest mistake of his life. But what choice did he have? He took Caius's outstretched hand, shaking it. "Deal."

 _Hahahahahahaa...angst. It's what I'm good at. Anyway, as always, constructive criticism and the like are appreciated, while flat-out negativity is not. That chiz will be ignored with a fiery passion. As always, I hope you enjoyed the chappie, and I will see all of you lovelies next week!_

 ** _XOXOXOXOXO_**


	9. Undesirable Truths

_Ahhh, good ole' angst. Yep, ladies and gents, it's that time of the week again. Who's excited? Ahhh...anywho, as per usual, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell. _That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I only own my original ideas. As usual, thank you to my beta for dealing with me at all hours of the day. She truly is a blessing. Anyway, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!_

Caius settled on the bed, looking entirely too smug. Jonathan sighed, already regretting his decision, and settled into his desk chair. "So, are you going to help me or not?"

"In good time. I cannot do much except provide you with information at this point." Jonathan looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Caius only smiled and rested against the pillows.

"Well?" Jonathan pressed impatiently. Caius sighed in pleasure, enjoying the waves of fear, stress, and anger that were rolling off the living boy.

"Well, I cannot very well tell you anything if I do not know what you already know."

Jonathan gritted his teeth, doing his best not to react impatiently. That was clearly what Caius wanted. He would be damned if he gave that self-centered brat one more reason to smile.

Reading these thoughts only caused Caius's smile to widen further. Did Jonathan honestly believe he could bottle up his emotions? Did he truly think the solution would be so simple? He waited patiently, knowing that, whether he wanted to or not, Jonathan had no choice but to play along.

"Fine. Mephistopheles said something called a Cataclysm is taking control of Sock's soul. Is there any way to get rid of it?"

Caius sighed, sticking his lower lip out in a slight pout. He hadn't expected that Mephistopheles would actually confide in the little mortal. He had truly believed that he had the upper hand on everything, had been excited to see Jonathan beg for the information he so strongly desired. But once again, Mephistopheles had gotten in the way. Just as he was about to mentally curse and rave at his fiancée, something occurred to him. Jonathan knew what a Cataclysm was; he must since he hadn't deemed it important enough to ask what they were. He had, however, asked if there was a way to defeat them. This meant he only had the most basic of information. Caius beamed, causing Jonathan to scoot away nervously in his desk chair; the little demon still had the upper hand.

"There are a couple of ways, but only a handful of supernatural beings know about these methods. These beings are mainly primordial in nature, so the secrets have been well kept for eons now. However, there are ways one can go about getting them."

"And those are?" Jonathan asked, unable to help the excitement in his voice. Finally, there was a chance of his being able to help Sock. Mephistopheles's warning to stay away from the situation entirely now seemed like a distant memory.

"Well, the simplest method is asking someone who already knows."

"Mephistopheles?"

Caius grinned, acting the part of a proud parent. "Now you seem to be getting it. Yes, Mephistopheles can give you the answer, but that does not necessarily mean that he will."

"But, why wouldn't he?" Jonathan spluttered, losing control of his emotions. He refused to be handed a lifeline and then watch as it was taken away just as quickly as it had been offered.

Caius all but writhed in pleasure; the feelings of negativity had permeated the room, and it was the equivalent of a grand feast. Having gotten lost in the flood of unhappiness, Caius briefly forgot that he was in the middle of torturing someone. Returning his attention to the mortal, he smiled patiently.

"Well, what reason would he have to do so? Since he knows the method, he can clearly go about sorting out the situation on his own. However, he won't be able to do that either. You see, Mephistopheles's older siblings, the Primordial beings, are very displeased with him. They blame him for what's happening to Sock, you see."

"Why would he be at fault? And who the hell are the Primordial Beings you keep mentioning?" Jonathan asked, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. Today had been nothing but an overload of information, yet he was still no closer to saving Sock.

For a moment, the patient smile slipped off of Caius's face. "I will pretend that you did not just utter the name of my home in vain." After making this proclamation and giving Jonathan a menacing look, he smiled again and continued. "Now, one question at a time. The easiest way to explain the matter is to start by telling you who the Primordial Beings are. They are supernatural beings born of chaos and nature's most basic needs. They are known to you and your fellow humans as Death, Famine, War, and Pestilence. They are also Death's older brothers and sisters."

"So, Mephistopheles isn't the baby of the family?" Jonathan drawled sarcastically. "How tragic."

Caius took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose along with a cloud of steam. "I will thank you not to speak about Mephistopheles in that way. Now, in terms of your second question, the older Beings blame Mephistopheles because he let Auriol go in the first place. If she had not gotten out of Hell, the curse never would have been placed. Sock would still be alive."

 _As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Constructive criticism and anything related to that is appreciated, but flat-out negativity is not. See you soon!_

 **XOXOXO**


	10. Smoke and Mirrors

_Hello, my lovelies! It's that wonderful time of week again: it's time for me to torture fictional characters that are not of my creation! Sorry, Erica...As always, disclaimers are in order. I do not own_ "Welcome to Hell". _That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I do, however, own most of the angst and my original ideas. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!_

"What?" Jonathan gasped, gazing at Caius in complete and utter shock. "What do you mean, Sock would still be alive?"

Caius had to force himself not to smile; this was practically orgasmic. "I meant just what I said. If it hadn't been for Mephistopheles's error in judgement, Aurial never would have gotten out of Hell in the hopes of finding a new mate. She would not have fallen in love with an Angel, meaning there would be no curse. Sock would never have been afflicted with demon blood."

"He never would've killed his parents and himself…" Jonathan murmured, allowing the words to sink in.

Caius smiled, clapping his hands. "Well done, Mr. Combs." He said in a patronizing tone. "That is exactly the case. I know you silly mortals believe your "psychology" has all the answers when it comes to these types of situations, but you are all simply blind. Though this "psychology" can be applied to a few situations, more often than not, serial killers and other people who have taken another human's life have been infected by demon blood at some point in their lives."

"So, people like Charles Manson and Ed Kemper? They were afflicted with a supernatural disease?" Caius nodded. Forgetting his mission for the time being, he reveled in having the upper hand over Jonathan Combs.

"They were indeed. As I said, most people who have committed murder are. Sock, however, is a special case. The demon blood was diluted through his family bloodline."

"Wouldn't that make the demon blood weaker?" Jonathan interrupted, and Caius growled, a truly demonic sound that came from deep within his throat. He did not appreciate being interrupted.

"If you will remain silent and let me explain, I would be able to tell you that demon blood does not function as other substances do. Rather than growing weaker as it spreads through the bloodlines of many a generation, it grows stronger. By the time it reached Sock and his family, he was all but doomed to be insane." Caius replied shortly, clearly irritated.

"Does that mean his parents were insane, too?" Jonathan questioned, watching in confusion as Caius shook his head.

"No. This is not something I can explain well, but I can make a sort of comparison." Jonathan arched a brow, prompting the small demon to continue. "As I am sure you know, some human diseases are passed down from generation to generation. However, sometimes this disease skips a generation or family member. This is similar to what occurs with demon blood."

"So, it skipped Sock's parents and went straight to Sock?"

Caius nodded. "This made it weaker than it would've been under normal circumstances, but it was still strong enough to drive him to murder."

Jonathan, who had been leaning forward eagerly as if he were listening to a thrilling story, slumped weakly against his desk chair. He had trusted Mephistopheles to do what was right, but how could he really trust the Devil to not make another mistake? A small part of his mind, the more rational part of his brain, insisted that he couldn't be sure Caius was telling the truth. After all, demons were known to lie, especially if it would cause the negative emotions they thrived on. However, he couldn't sure of Mephistopheles's intentions either. Did he actually want to help prevent Sock from causing harm to himself or others, or was he only trying to cover his ass? Jonathan groaned and hid his face in his hands.

Caius beamed, all but ecstatic. As well as being able to feel the mortal's anguish, he had been able to read Jonathan's thoughts. He knew of the inner turmoil the human was going through. Everything was going according to plan. Now it was time to initiate the next step.

"So, are you going to try to help your little love rather than wait for mine to clean up the mess?"

Jonathan, too exhausted to notice that Caius had just referred to the Devil as his lover, shrugged. "Unlike the superior thinking skills you demons must have, we humans need some time to process huge amounts of information."

Almost losing his self-control at the apparent sarcasm, Caius took a deep breath, exhaling a grey cloud of smoke. "I will await your response, then. Just know that you only have a few days. Creatures like Cataclysms tend to do their work quickly." He sighed. "The fact that Sock was able to ignore its taunts and temptations for so long is a testament to his strength." Caius added this last part grudgingly, as if he couldn't quite believe he had decided to voice such a thought.

Jonathan only nodded, so Caius decided that now would be the perfect time to fine-tune the details of his plan. He knew exactly how he was going to convince Jonathan Combs to end his life.

 _Mwahahaha! I am an asshole! My beta and roommate will probably agree with that statement...Anywho...as always, I hope you enjoyed the chappie. Constructive criticism and the like are always appreciated. Negativity isn't, though. See you next time, my lovelies!_

 **XOXOXO**


	11. The Battle Begins

**Hello, my lovelies! I know I'm only a day late, but I would like to apologize anyway since I'm normally good about keeping to my schedule. I'm still getting used to living without my parents while going to school, so, as odd as it sounds, I'm still working on forming a new routine. Well...now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's time for disclaimers! I do not own** _Welcome to Hell_ **. That honor belongs to Erica Wester. I do, however, own all of my original ideas. A big thank you goes to my beta. Though she hasn't had an opportunity to read over the past few chapters, she still supports and encourages me, especially when I just want to give up. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the chappie!**

Sock slowly closed the door to the Ninth Circle, ensuring that it was locked before he started down the hallway. Oddly enough, today had been a slow workday. It seemed those in Heaven were currently getting more souls than the workers in Hell. For Sock, this meant that he was low on souls to torture. As strange as it was, this made Sock happier than he had been in ages. For the first time in months, the angry voice in his mind had gone silent. He had no idea if it was because he had gone to visit Jonathan or because his job in Hell satisfied the "Voice's" malicious intent. Whatever the cause, he could finally focus on his situation without being tormented in his own head.

Floating down the hallway and humming some silly pop tune, he considered what this opportunity meant for him.

He could finally think about the Jonathan situation.

He could consider his career from his own perspective rather than the perspective of the mental menace.

He could think of ways to defeat the fucking mental menace.

As soon as he came to this realization, a terrible headache hit. He immediately plummeted to the ground, clutching his head with both hands. It felt like his temples were being split in two.

 _'HOW DARE YOU EVEN ASSUME YOU COULD GET RID OF ME SO EASILY? DID YOU HONESTLY ASSUME MY REST MEANT YOUR ESCAPE? YOU ARE MINE FOR NOW AND UNTIL THE END OF THE TIME! DO. NOT. FORGET. THIS. AGAIN."_

Sock could only whimper and nod, hoping the "Voice" would understand this response.

 _'GOOD. NOW RETURN TO THE NINTH CIRCLE. YOU WILL STAY THERE UNTIL MEPHISTOPHELES SUMMONS YOU.'_

Sock nodded again and shakily return to his feet, floating back the way he had come.

Why did he ever think he could escape this madness?

"How many times must I apologize before you will stop commanding me to grovel at your feet?" Mephistopheles demanded, hurrying quickly toward his office.

"I will possibly consider forgiving you once you clean up your mess." Death replied curtly, following closely behind his younger brother. "You have one job! One! How could you have messed up so badly?"

Death stopped mere inches from his office door and turned to face his older brother. The Primordial Being was currently nothing more than a hulking black cloak. The pale figure underneath was hidden completely by the cloak, meaning Mephistopheles could not determine the eldest Reaper's emotions. At the very most, he could guess at Death's exasperation, but that was as far as it went. Not being able to determine the extent of his brother's anger was a very dangerous position to be in.

"Let's not forget, dear Brother, that I do not have the powers to open up the gates to Hell. You and your Reapers are the only ones with that power. This means that, though I have the power to determine the level of punishment and whether or not someone was rightfully labelled as a sinner, I do not have the ability to let souls in, nor do I have the power to release them. So, while I am guilty of not keeping a closer eye on Auriol, it was you and your Reapers who let her out."

Death froze; even the invisible currents of air that had been stirring his cloak disappeared. Mephistopheles bit his bottom lip, realizing his mistake. Whether or not he was right did not matter. One never called Death out on his mistakes.

"Our eldest brother gave you a set of simple duties." Death began coldly. "You ensure your demons register, punish, and keep track of the souls who have been deemed unworthy of Heaven's joys. _You_ are in charge of keeping track of these demons. Simple enough, yes?"

Mephistopheles nodded, nervous. He had expected the complete wrath of his eldest brother. The disappointment and cold detachment in his voice was somehow worse. Death had always been Mephistopheles's favorite sibling and the one he could trust the most. Now it felt like he was losing the only family he had ever known. Death, aware of his brother's emotions, continued.

"So, while it may be that one of my reapers wasn't paying as much attention as they should have been, it was your lack of responsibility that allowed the escape that has led to all of this chaos. You know what must happen next."

Mephistopheles's eyes widened. "Brother, please. It doesn't need to come to that. I can take care of the situation."

Death sighed, the sound like that of breaking twigs and crackling leaves. "You are aware of the rules, young Mephistopheles. I do not like this anymore than you do, but you know that the Cataclysm is too entwined with the soul of young Napoleon. It needs to be exorcised before it can be destroyed. Otherwise, it will destroy the young spirit as well as humanity."

"But the process itself is so painful! There is no guarantee that Sock's soul will survive the procedure!"

Death didn't reply for a moment, confused by his brother referring to the endangered spirit as an article of clothing. Figuring it must be some sort of nickname, he composed himself before continuing in his attempts to convince his brother of the severity of the situation.

"I am well aware of that, Mephistopheles. You know this goes against my nature. It is my job to guide souls; I would prefer it if they did not suffer. However, this is the only way Napoleon will have any peace in the afterlife, the only way he can return to the human he has so deeply bonded with. Please realize that this is much better than leaving him to suffer until the Cataclysm takes over."

Mephistopheles buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan of frustration and sadness. He knew his elder brother was right. This was the only way to give Sock even the smallest chance of a peaceful afterlife. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"All right, I'll go get him. He'll come more willingly to me than to you. He's only seen you the one time, and it was a mere glimpse." Death nodded in agreement, and Mephistopheles was able to relax just a bit. Even though guiding Sock into a terrible situation gently and peacefully was the only thing he could do to make this better, it still alieved his guilt, even if was only slightly.

"There's no need to come find me. I'm right here."

Mephistopheles whirled, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Death had done the same.

Sock was floating in the doorway, a look of grim determination on his face. Behind him flickered the helix-shaped shadow Cataclysm.

"You don't have to convince me of anything." Sock begins before raising a hand to his temple, wincing. At the same moment, the shadow darkened and hummed almost joyfully. Mephistopheles frowned and knew Death was once again doing the same. The Cataclysm was much stronger than it had been when Sock had gone to visit the human boy. This did not bode well. Sock took a deep breath and forced himself to keep speaking. "I'll go through the exorcism willingly if it'll get rid of this damn thing and let me go back to Jon."

Mephistopheles nodded and turned to look at his older brother. Death was gazing at the young spirit thoughtfully. The Devil knew that his brother had not been expecting Sock to agree to the procedure so easily. There had only ever been one other Cataclysm, and the afflicted spirit had been dragged to the exorcism, kicking and screaming. Mephistopheles knew these were the thoughts running through his brother's mind because he was having the same thoughts. However, he also knew that a willing participant was more likely to survive the exorcism. This was nothing less than a stroke of luck, some instance of divine intervention. Before his brother could say anything that would cause Sock to be any more fearful of the procedure than he already was, he hurried forward and took one of Sock's hands in both of his own.

"All right. We'll begin the preparations immediately."

 **Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! As always, constructive criticism, reviews, and the like are always appreciated. Flat-out negativity, however, is not. See you soon!**

 **XOXOXOXO**


	12. I'm Sorry!

_Hey, everyone! I've no idea if this apology is even necessary, but I feel that it is, so here goes nothing. I'm sorry for not posting a chapter on Sunday. I know I said I would make it a point to post every Sunday, and I also know I've not deviated much from this schedule. For whatever reason, I fell out of the routine I placed for myself (I may have already mentioned this, so sorry about that), so I've been having a bit of trouble staying on top of everything. I promise there will be a chapter this Sunday. There may be one sometime this week, depending on whether or not I can force myself to relax and write. Again, I'm sorry, and I also apologize to anyone who thought this was a chapter. There will be one soon, I promise. Also, the story got another follow and favorite, so yay! Thank you guys! As always, I will see you soon!_

 **XOXOXO**


	13. A Dangerous Game of Tricks

**I am so, so, so sorry! I know how long it's been since I updated, and I'm so sorry. I fell into a slump with this story and was honestly not sure about where I wanted to go with it. Being an adult also keeps me pleasantly busy and stressed. Thanks, college. Anywho...I don't own** **Welcome to Hell** **. That honor belongs to Erica Wester. The book Jonathan refers to is** **Dante's Inferno** **by Dante Alighieri. I don't own that either. All the original ideas, characters, and concepts are mine, though. I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait!**

"What do you mean, I won't get to see Sock again?!"

Caius rolled his eyes, acting as if the pitiful human's cries of outrage were nothing more than a mere annoyance, especially because he had to explain the whole matter. _Again_. This was the case, but Caius was being a touch more dramatic than he needed to be. It was all part of the master plan.

"As I have told you at least three times now, Jonathan Combs, you will not be able to see your precious Sock again." He said the young demon's name with a sneer, angering Jonathan all the more. "Demons, no matter their origin or position, can only be gifted with passage out of Hell under two sets of circumstances. The first is, of course, having a job that requires the demon to reside in the mortal realm rather than Hell. As you can tell, I have been granted such passage. The second requires Lord Mephistopheles's blessing. This is what Sock had when he last came to see you. As young Sock has been granted permission for neither form of passage, he will be remaining in Hell for the remainder of his days. As he is dead, that would be for eternity."

"But Mephistopheles could give Sock permission to come back a second time, right?" Jonathan asked, now uncertain. There were so many laws and regulations when it came to demons that he felt like he was constantly jumping through hoops as he tried to get a single answer.

"Unfortunately, no." Caius replied, smirking. "My Lord and fiancée is only able to grant that permission once and only once. Sock used his one opportunity to be free of Hell to come see you before he went completely mad. Pathetically romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask…" Jonathan growled, curling his fingers into fists.

"No." Caius breathed softly. "You didn't, which is rather rude since I am the only one who can help you reunite with the man you were too cowardly to admit your feelings to."

Jonathan's eyes widened ever so slightly. Nobody would've noticed the change in his emotions unless they were paying unnecessarily close attention, which, of course, Caius was.

"What do you mean? Your whole purpose as of right now is to convince me to kill myself. Why would you help me?" Jonathan lowered himself into his desk chair, convinced the conversation had reached its end. "By the way, you're terrible at your job. In fact, you might be worse at it than Sock was, and he was pretty damn bad at it."

Caius grit his teeth, ignoring the blood that ran down his chin. His fangs had pierced his lower lip. He would not rise to the bait. "I have my reasons, Jonathan Combs, reasons you shall not become privy to unless you want me to make your feelings known to the rest of the mortal realm."

Jonathan scoffed. "And how exactly are you going to do that? Possess me?" He started to chuckle before noticing that Caius had smiled at the mention of possessing Jonathan. "Wait, you can't be serious. You can actually possess me?"

Caius nodded and floated over to the bed, settling down into the rumpled sheets with a smirk. "Of course I can, you idiot. I thought you had done your research, Jonathan. All demons are capable of some level of possession, and some are more powerful than others. While demons belonging to the lowest ranks of Mephistopheles's army are only capable of behaviors that are similar to that of a poltergeist, demons from the middle ranks can slightly affect the actions of mortals as well as behave as if they were poltergeists. Demons from the highest ranking positons of Mephistopheles's army are fully capable of completely taking over a human's body, destroying the homes and other areas in which mortals reside, and behaving as poltergeists. They can control the minds of multiple humans at a single time as well."

Jonathan couldn't help but gulp nervously. "And which part of that army are you in, Caius?"

Caius laughed, a strangely pleasant sound. "Should not that be obvious? I am, after all, the fiancée of the Lord of Hell."

Jonathan bit his lip, now more terrified of the demon than he had ever been before. In the past, he had only seen Caius as a nuisance. But now that he knew the threat the demon posed to his well-being…

"Wait." Jonathan arched a brow, causing the demon to look at him quizzically. "If you can possess me, why haven't you done so already? Wouldn't it be much easier to make me end my life if you were, you know, in control of it?"

Caius burst into laughter, and Jonathan involuntarily scooted backwards in his desk chair. He ran into his bedroom wall, causing him to jump yet again before he was able to focus on Caius again. That was not at all the reaction he had been expecting.

"Why are you laughing?" Jon demanded, surprised to see himself offended. Not only did he have to deal with this immortal brat, now he was going to mock Jonathan, too?

Normally offended by the mortal's rudeness, Caius could only laugh harder at Jonathan's reaction. The mortal _really_ was dense.

"I find amusement in your statement because you are wrong. While I could possess you and force you to toss your body off a bridge or swallow a bottle of pills, it would not count. Your fellow mortals would, of course, be sure that you had done it to yourself, but it would be murder in Mephistopheles's eyes. I would not have completed the job." Caius explained, sounding annoyingly patient.

"So, your job won't be complete until I personally kill myself? Who cares? That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about the fact that I can't see Sock again."

Caius raised one delicate eyebrow. Despite the grief he had put many a mortal through, he was incredibly beautiful. His beauty had made it easy to tempt and seduce humans into doing whatever the demon desired. However, he had known before he even set foot in Jonathan Comb's life that his normal tactics wouldn't work. The mortal had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with Sock. The fact that the idiot wouldn't admit it didn't matter. Caius still wouldn't be able to seduce Jonathan. So, that left trickery and emotional torment as his only available tools.

"Ah, but it has everything to do with the matter at hand." Caius replied, acting surprised. "Do you not understand? If you were to kill yourself, you would be able to see Sock again. You would be able to spend eternity with him."

Caius was right. Jonathan was having an incredibly hard time admitting his love for Sock to anyone, including himself. That didn't stop Caius's words from sending a shiver down his spine and through his heart, though. He knew the demon was lying. Even if he did kill himself, there was no guarantee he would be able to see Sock. Hadn't he read in some book that people who committed suicide were turned into trees once they got to Hell? Logically, Jonathan knew that this was true. He would be turned into a tortured tree, and Caius would receive a pat on the back for a job well done. He would never get to see Sock. It was all part of some sick little plan that the demon had concocted in order to get the job done. But…the words Caius had spoken…

"Eternity?" He murmured, more to himself than to Caius. The demon smiled sweetly and nodded. Being a reader of minds, he could sense that Jonathan knew he was probably lying. He even had an idea of where people who committed suicide went once they arrived in Hell, but the mere thought of spending eternity with his little idiot was slowly becoming the dominant thought.

"Eternity indeed."

Jonathan covered his face in his hands. He couldn't kill himself. He definitely didn't want to kill himself. He missed Sock, and there was no arguing about that. He was also at the point where he would do anything to see his little idiot again. But he couldn't help but think Caius's plan would only benefit one of them, and it wasn't going to be Jonathan…

"Well, I do miss the little shit, and spending eternity with him would honestly be great. I can't help but think you don't have my best interests at heart here, though, Caius. Aren't demons known to lie in order to get what they want?"

Caius's smile instantly slipped off his face. "What could I possibly have to gain from setting you up with that pathetic excuse for a torturer?"

"Well, you've got me there." Jonathan replied, voice growing louder as he became confident. "But convincing me to kill myself would be the end of your job, wouldn't it? And then you could return to your precious fiancée."

Caius bared his fangs, all vestiges of warmth and helpfulness gone. "Never speak about my fiancée." He floated off the bed and over to Jonathan, wings unfurled to their full length. Jonathan couldn't help but flinch away. He knew mentioning Mephistopheles wouldn't be the best decision, but he needed to piss Caius off.

"Or what? You'll kill me? Then you'll have to return to Mephistopheles with your tail between your legs. Or would that be some sick form of pleasure to you two?"

Caius howled in fury and shoved Jonathan against the wall, claws digging into the human's upper arms. He leaned forward until his face was inches from Jonathan's and hissed, baring his fangs once again. "You may think I cannot hurt you, and you may think you can trick me, but you forget two important things, Jonathan Combs. I can read your thoughts. I know of your silly and pathetic plan."

Jonathan took a deep breath to steady himself and raised an eyebrow. "And what's the second thing, Caius?"

"I, unlike the others, can return to Hell whenever I wish. I have it in my power to hurt Sock." The demon watched in sick satisfaction as the mortal's face paled.

"Please leave him alone…" The blond whispered.

"Oh, it is too late to even consider apologizing, Jonathan Combs. You will wait here and imagine all the horrible tortures I could be putting your love through. I, meanwhile, will return to Hell and punish Sock for your impudence." And with that, the demon disappeared, causing Jonathan to crash to the floor.

The blond winced at the pain before laughing softly, holding his wounded arms to his chest. Caius might think he had the mortal figured out, but the little demon had just played into Jonathan Comb's hands.

 **Again, I am so sorry for taking so long to update. I hope you all enjoyed the chappie. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, but flat-out rudeness is not. See you all soon!**

 **XOXOXOXO**


	14. Betrayal on All Sides

_Yay, another chapter! A big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to interact with this story, whether that be by favoriting it, following it, or just giving it a glance! I appreciate and love every single one of you! As always, a big thank you goes to my beta and best friend for taking the time to help me with this story despite how busy she is. I do not own Welcome to Hell. That honor belongs to the wonderful Erica Wester. So, with all that out of the way and without further ado, I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

The shrieks of pain that echoed throughout Hell had never been louder than they were on this day. Caius walked through the gates, eyebrows raised and a look of confusion fixed on his beautiful face. He was used to screams of pain and howls of agony coming from Hell. That was, after all, the purpose of his Lord fiancée's realm. Today, however, the screams were almost deafening and were coming from a single soul: Sock.

Caius flew toward the direction of the screams, face pale. If the shrieks of agony were coming from the room he thought they were coming from, his plans were ruined. His plans would only work if Sock remained afflicted with the Catalyst, but if his Lord fiancée and his siblings managed to exorcise it…Caius shook his head. He couldn't and wouldn't allow that to happen. Sock could destroy the entire planet for all he cared, but Caius would not lose this battle.

As he came closer to the source of the noises, his fears were confirmed. His Lord fiancée's office looked drastically different. The endlessly towering filing cabinets and small desk were gone. In their place was a small bed. This bed was placed in the middle of the room and was surrounded by stubs of black candles. The candles were lit, but the light that was coming from them was almost pathetic. They did not so much light up the room as they illuminated the shapes of the bed and the figures surrounding the bed.

Sock was resting on the bed, eyes glowing dimly in the dark. Mephistopheles and his older brothers, Saol and Bas, were standing around the bed, murmuring softly. Caius remained in the corner of the room, near the doorway. He knew that the brothers wouldn't notice him as long as they were focused on the exorcism, and Caius would not risk being caught now. That wouldn't do if he intended to sabotage the exorcism. He had promised Jonathan Combs that he would hurt Sock, and Caius was a demon of his word. With a smirk, Caius crouched low to the ground and continued to watch the scene before him unfold, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Jonathan stood in the shower, letting the hot water run over his aching body. Along with the wounds on his arms, his whole body ached from being tossed across the room by the demon. The blonde smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the water running over his body. Even though he was wounded and exhausted, he knew the victory would ultimately be his. Whether or not, Caius chose to admit it, Jonathan had won.

Mephistopheles glanced at his elder brothers, trying to hide his emotions. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was nervous. No, that wasn't quite right. He was verging on fear. He had only ever seen one other Catalyst, and the exorcism for that soul had ended in disaster. Mephistopheles couldn't help but wonder if the same would occur for Sock. If that was the case, Mephistopheles could kiss this dimension and all the rest goodbye. The Catalyst that had taken residence in Sock was so much more powerful than the first Catalyst could ever hope to be. If things went awry, all facets of life, all branches of the known universes would go up in smoke. The only good thing that would come of utter annihilation would be that Mephistopheles would no longer be obligated to marry Caius. That demon was nothing more than a spoiled child. The only reasons Mephistopheles had agreed to the marriage were to appease the higher-ranking demons after the whole "Sock fiasco" and to have an easy piece of ass at the end of every day. He could honestly care less about who Caius was or what else he had to offer. He was a tool to keep the peace and relieve stress. That was it. Mephistopheles took a deep breath, forcing himself to return to the task at hand. Being distracted while the fate of the known universes rested with himself and his brothers was definitely a no-no at the moment.

Caius, meanwhile, was fuming in the corner of the room where he had been hiding. How dare Mephistopheles think such things? His father had promised that Lord Mephistopheles would see the marriage as a gift, a blessing even. Now Caius knew the truth. Mephistopheles only saw his body and political value. He could care less about how deeply Caius truly loved him or the plans he had to help keep Mephistopheles organized and free of stress. However, now that the young demon knew Mephistopheles's true feelings, Caius had a much different plan in mind. If he could keep Mephistopheles and his brothers distracted, the Catalyst would quickly overcome Sock. The universes would be destroyed, and the three beings he hated the most right now would be destroyed right along with them. The young demon grinned a sickening and sinister grin before standing and dusting his clothes off. He strode forward toward the three celestial beings and the small suffering demon.

"My, my. What is the cause of all this excitement, my love?"

 _I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The story is reaching the end, but I have a few chapters left. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, but flat-out negativity is not. I won't promise that the next chapter will be up soon because I'm kind of all over the place right now, but I promise I'll follow through with this story until the very end. I love you all! Happy Holidays!_

 _XOXOXOXOXO_


	15. What have you done?

_Hello, everyone! I know these updates have been slow coming lately, and I apologize for that. I had trouble getting inspiration for this particular chapter, so writing it and getting it the way I wanted it was a tad difficult. But it's here now! As always, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell _and its characters/concepts. That honor belongs to the gifted Erica Wester. All the original concepts, ideas, and characters from this story are mine. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I really do hope you all enjoy this chappie!_

Mephistopheles's eyes widened, and Caius couldn't help but snicker. He'd managed to catch the great Mephistopheles off guard.

"What are you doing here, Caius?" Mephistopheles asked once he'd gotten over his initial shock.

"I was attracted by the sounds of agony. As a lowly demon, causing suffering and filthy pleasure are my only two purposes." Caius crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at the suffering spirit with contempt.

It took a moment for Caius's words to sink in. When they did, Mephistopheles groaned. Caius had been nearby when he had been thinking about his feelings regarding the marriage. He knew how Mephistopheles felt, and he was here to wreak havoc. Following Caius's line of sight, Mephistopheles knew exactly what Caius's plan was.

He was going to attempt to ruin the exorcism.

Bas cleared his throat, attempting to get his younger brother to focus on the task at hand. "Brother, you will have to put aside your personal life for now. We have a much more important matter to contend with."

Mephistopheles looked at his brother and nodded. Caius growled. Even though he was furious with Mephistopheles, even though a part of him now despised his so-called fiancée, he hated not having the demon Lord's attention on him even more.

"How dare you place more importance on this petty poltergeist?" He screeched, trying to break through the circle and get to Sock. In his rage and sadness, however, he had forgotten one key component of these exorcisms.

The soul experiencing the exorcism could create a shield to keep out unwanted energies, and apparently that unwanted energy was Caius. The small demon howled in fury and, forgetting that he had more than one target, began to throw himself up against the invisible barrier. Saol, growing tired of this minor and inferior entity's antics, roughly shoved Caius aside and growled, baring small, sharp fangs.

"How dare you think your petty romance with my sibling is more important than the fate of every known universe? Are you really that childish?"

The small demon looked up in shock and then screeched in anger. Caius leaped at the older and much more powerful entity, fangs bared and wings unfurled. Saol swatted the tiny demon aside as if he were nothing more than a fly. Caius was thrown across the room; he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room without a sound, having gotten the breath knocked out of his lungs. Wheezing, he struggled into a sitting position, crying silently.

Strangely enough, Mephistopheles felt bad for Caius. It wasn't Caius's fault that he was in a loveless engagement or that every plane of existence was in danger of imploding. It was the fault of Mephistopheles. He had agreed to the engagement, knowing full well that he would not take the time to get to know Caius, to learn to love the young demon. The Cataclysm was the fault of Mephistopheles as well. Despite the nature of the Cataclysm, it can only be created under a certain set of circumstances. Mephistopheles had known what Sock needed to pass on, to not have to reside in Hell for eternity. All the demon Lord had to do was help Sock regain his memories and then Sock would've been able to pass onto the final plane of existence that hell-bound souls found themselves in.

It had been an agreement between Mephistopheles and his Father. Though Mephistopheles understood the need to punish souls, he had come to realize that not every soul deserved to be punished in Hell for all eternity for their sins. In fact, ninety percent of the unfortunate souls that found themselves in Hell deserved an eternity of grotesque punishment. Though some of those souls had certainly done some dastardly deeds, Mephistopheles had thought the point of Hell would be to serve as a sort of rehabilitation for troubled souls. After a certain amount of punishment, those who truly felt guilt for their sins and asked for forgiveness should be able to receive it. After this finding, he noticed that were a select few souls who would never feel guilt for what they'd done, but he could easily keep them in Hell. After all, he was running a business. So, he had come up with a proposal to bring to his heavenly Father. Let us provide a place for those souls who do repent for their sins. Let us give them a final and peaceful resting place. His Father had seen reason, not that Mephistopheles had expected he wouldn't. It was a good idea for everyone involved. Along with helping troubled souls find rehabilitation, it also helped with the overcrowding in Hell. This past century had been ripe with sinners. Mephistopheles's proposal would prove to be a true nirvana for all.

Mephistopheles hadn't given Sock the chance to go to this final resting place, however. He had seen the future for that poor soul. He would suffer thirty years of punishment, forty at the maximum. Then he would be able to repent for his sins and regain all of his memories before finding his final resting place in the newly formed nirvana. But instead Mephistopheles had given Sock a job, effectively putting a block on the young spirit's memories and preventing him from moving on. It was his fault that a Catalyst had formed in Sock, and now he wasn't sure if there was a way to stop the destruction that was so very near. Mephistopheles shook himself and returned his attention to the matter at hand. He could berate himself properly lately.

"All right, let's try to get rid of this beast before we're all sent somewhere much worse than Hell." Mephistopheles said. His brothers nodded in agreement, and all three entities stood around Sock and joined hands before beginning to chant.

As the chanting progressed, Sock squirmed, clearly uncomfortable. As the brunette squirmed, his appearance shifted, becoming like so much smoke. In one moment, he was Sock, a small spirit with a mop of brown hair and frightened green eyes. In the next, Sock's form looked more like a DNA helix with streaks of purple and red twisting around the coils of the helix. When he was in this form, white-hot lightening shot out from the center of the helix and hit the three older entities. Bas, Saol, and Mephistopheles all flinched as they were gifted with second and third-degree burns.

After a few moments more, the three eldest entities stopped chanting. Each of them were covered in burns and were panting from the exertion.

"I was not expecting the Catalyst to release the soul willingly, but I was not prepared for the two to be so intertwined." Bas murmured, wincing as he examined one of his larger burns.

"An exorcism alone isn't going to get rid of this thing." Mephistopheles replied with a groan. "What are we going to do?"

Saol considered the question. "If what I am sensing from the young spirit is accurate, he does not want to be helped. He does not see the purpose of being without the Catalyst. Was there anything that brought him happiness prior to his new line of employment here in Hell?"

Mephistopheles wasn't stupid. He knew his older brother had figured out that this situation was mostly, if not entirely Mephistopheles' fault. Saol's suspicions were confirmed when Mephistopheles looked down and gave a tiny nod.

"Yes. To my knowledge, there are two things that brought Sock a certain amount of joy."

"Well? Get on with it!" Bas demanded. "We do not have time for you to have a dramatic monologue, Mephistopheles."

Mephistopheles sighed, resisting the urge to hold his hands up in defense. It would be truly unwise to break the circle now. "Murder and Jonathan Combs."

Saol and Bas blinked in surprise. Neither of them had expected to hear that a mortal had been bringing the young spirit joy. Murder would have been obvious to the two entities, given Sock's past. Learning that Sock had truly cared for a mortal following his death was quite a shock. Despite the shock, this was a blessing.

"Well, obviously we cannot set him loose in the mortal realm to murder as he pleases." Saol murmured, turning his full attention to his youngest brother.

"So, what are you saying?" Mephistopheles asked softly, already knowing the answer before he even asked the question.

"We need to bring Jonathan Combs here. If he truly did bring this young spirit happiness, there is a chance that sensing Jonathan Combs's presence will calm young Sock down enough to relinquish his negative feelings and his attachment to the Catalyst." Saol replied.

"I agree, brother, but how are we going to get Jonathan Combs here?" Bas asked. "We cannot leave or break the circle lest the Catalyst leaves Sock to wreak havoc or destroys the poor spirit."

Mephistopheles sighed, feeling that he was performing that particular action all too much lately. "I know what to do." He turned his head to look at Caius. "Caius? I need a favor."

 _I hope you all enjoyed the chappie! The end of this little story is reaching its end slowly and surely, and I hope you've all enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. There will be two to three more chapters before this little fic reaches its conclusion. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated along with reviews and all that good stuff. Pure negativity is not appreciated, however. See you all soon!_

 _XOXOXOXO_


	16. Vocal Wars

_Hello, everyone! I know these updates have been slow coming lately, and I apologize for that. I had trouble getting inspiration for this particular chapter, so writing it and getting it the way I wanted it was a tad difficult. But it's here now! As always, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell _and its characters/concepts. That honor belongs to the gifted Erica Wester. All the original concepts, ideas, and characters from this story are mine. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I really do hope you all enjoy this chappie!_

Mephistopheles's eyes widened, and Caius couldn't help but snicker. He'd managed to catch the great Mephistopheles off guard.

"What are you doing here, Caius?" Mephistopheles asked once he'd gotten over his initial shock.

"I was attracted by the sounds of agony. As a lowly demon, causing suffering and filthy pleasure are my only two purposes." Caius crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at the suffering spirit with contempt.

It took a moment for Caius's words to sink in. When they did, Mephistopheles groaned. Caius had been nearby when he had been thinking about his feelings regarding the marriage. He knew how Mephistopheles felt, and he was here to wreak havoc. Following Caius's line of sight, Mephistopheles knew exactly what Caius's plan was.

He was going to attempt to ruin the exorcism.

Bas cleared his throat, attempting to get his younger brother to focus on the task at hand. "Brother, you will have to put aside your personal life for now. We have a much more important matter to contend with."

Mephistopheles looked at his brother and nodded. Caius growled. Even though he was furious with Mephistopheles, even though a part of him now despised his so-called fiancée, he hated not having the demon Lord's attention on him even more.

"How dare you place more importance on this petty poltergeist?" He screeched, trying to break through the circle and get to Sock. In his rage and sadness, however, he had forgotten one key component of these exorcisms.

The soul experiencing the exorcism could create a shield to keep out unwanted energies, and apparently that unwanted energy was Caius. The small demon howled in fury and, forgetting that he had more than one target, began to throw himself up against the invisible barrier. Saol, growing tired of this minor and inferior entity's antics, roughly shoved Caius aside and growled, baring small, sharp fangs.

"How dare you think your petty romance with my sibling is more important than the fate of every known universe? Are you really that childish?"

The small demon looked up in shock and then screeched in anger. Caius leaped at the older and much more powerful entity, fangs bared and wings unfurled. Saol swatted the tiny demon aside as if he were nothing more than a fly. Caius was thrown across the room; he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room without a sound, having gotten the breath knocked out of his lungs. Wheezing, he struggled into a sitting position, crying silently.

Strangely enough, Mephistopheles felt bad for Caius. It wasn't Caius's fault that he was in a loveless engagement or that every plane of existence was in danger of imploding. It was the fault of Mephistopheles. He had agreed to the engagement, knowing full well that he would not take the time to get to know Caius, to learn to love the young demon. The Cataclysm was the fault of Mephistopheles as well. Despite the nature of the Cataclysm, it can only be created under a certain set of circumstances. Mephistopheles had known what Sock needed to pass on, to not have to reside in Hell for eternity. All the demon Lord had to do was help Sock regain his memories and then Sock would've been able to pass onto the final plane of existence that hell-bound souls found themselves in.

It had been an agreement between Mephistopheles and his Father. Though Mephistopheles understood the need to punish souls, he had come to realize that not every soul deserved to be punished in Hell for all eternity for their sins. In fact, ninety percent of the unfortunate souls that found themselves in Hell deserved an eternity of grotesque punishment. Though some of those souls had certainly done some dastardly deeds, Mephistopheles had thought the point of Hell would be to serve as a sort of rehabilitation for troubled souls. After a certain amount of punishment, those who truly felt guilt for their sins and asked for forgiveness should be able to receive it. After this finding, he noticed that were a select few souls who would never feel guilt for what they'd done, but he could easily keep them in Hell. After all, he was running a business. So, he had come up with a proposal to bring to his heavenly Father. Let us provide a place for those souls who do repent for their sins. Let us give them a final and peaceful resting place. His Father had seen reason, not that Mephistopheles had expected he wouldn't. It was a good idea for everyone involved. Along with helping troubled souls find rehabilitation, it also helped with the overcrowding in Hell. This past century had been ripe with sinners. Mephistopheles's proposal would prove to be a true nirvana for all.

Mephistopheles hadn't given Sock the chance to go to this final resting place, however. He had seen the future for that poor soul. He would suffer thirty years of punishment, forty at the maximum. Then he would be able to repent for his sins and regain all of his memories before finding his final resting place in the newly formed nirvana. But instead Mephistopheles had given Sock a job, effectively putting a block on the young spirit's memories and preventing him from moving on. It was his fault that a Catalyst had formed in Sock, and now he wasn't sure if there was a way to stop the destruction that was so very near. Mephistopheles shook himself and returned his attention to the matter at hand. He could berate himself properly lately.

"All right, let's try to get rid of this beast before we're all sent somewhere much worse than Hell." Mephistopheles said. His brothers nodded in agreement, and all three entities stood around Sock and joined hands before beginning to chant.

As the chanting progressed, Sock squirmed, clearly uncomfortable. As the brunette squirmed, his appearance shifted, becoming like so much smoke. In one moment, he was Sock, a small spirit with a mop of brown hair and frightened green eyes. In the next, Sock's form looked more like a DNA helix with streaks of purple and red twisting around the coils of the helix. When he was in this form, white-hot lightening shot out from the center of the helix and hit the three older entities. Bas, Saol, and Mephistopheles all flinched as they were gifted with second and third-degree burns.

After a few moments more, the three eldest entities stopped chanting. Each of them were covered in burns and were panting from the exertion.

"I was not expecting the Catalyst to release the soul willingly, but I was not prepared for the two to be so intertwined." Bas murmured, wincing as he examined one of his larger burns.

"An exorcism alone isn't going to get rid of this thing." Mephistopheles replied with a groan. "What are we going to do?"

Saol considered the question. "If what I am sensing from the young spirit is accurate, he does not want to be helped. He does not see the purpose of being without the Catalyst. Was there anything that brought him happiness prior to his new line of employment here in Hell?"

Mephistopheles wasn't stupid. He knew his older brother had figured out that this situation was mostly, if not entirely Mephistopheles' fault. Saol's suspicions were confirmed when Mephistopheles looked down and gave a tiny nod.

"Yes. To my knowledge, there are two things that brought Sock a certain amount of joy."

"Well? Get on with it!" Bas demanded. "We do not have time for you to have a dramatic monologue, Mephistopheles."

Mephistopheles sighed, resisting the urge to hold his hands up in defense. It would be truly unwise to break the circle now. "Murder and Jonathan Combs."

Saol and Bas blinked in surprise. Neither of them had expected to hear that a mortal had been bringing the young spirit joy. Murder would have been obvious to the two entities, given Sock's past. Learning that Sock had truly cared for a mortal following his death was quite a shock. Despite the shock, this was a blessing.

"Well, obviously we cannot set him loose in the mortal realm to murder as he pleases." Saol murmured, turning his full attention to his youngest brother.

"So, what are you saying?" Mephistopheles asked softly, already knowing the answer before he even asked the question.

"We need to bring Jonathan Combs here. If he truly did bring this young spirit happiness, there is a chance that sensing Jonathan Combs's presence will calm young Sock down enough to relinquish his negative feelings and his attachment to the Catalyst." Saol replied.

"I agree, brother, but how are we going to get Jonathan Combs here?" Bas asked. "We cannot leave or break the circle lest the Catalyst leaves Sock to wreak havoc or destroys the poor spirit."

Mephistopheles sighed, feeling that he was performing that particular action all too much lately. "I know what to do." He turned his head to look at Caius. "Caius? I need a favor."

 _I hope you all enjoyed the chappie! The end of this little story is reaching its end slowly and surely, and I hope you've all enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. There will be two to three more chapters before this little fic reaches its conclusion. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated along with reviews and all that good stuff. Pure negativity is not appreciated, however. See you all soon!_

 _XOXOXOXO_


	17. Deal with the Devil

_So...I didn't think I actually had enough typed up to make a decent-sized chapter. I just happened to be checking to see how much more I would need to write before I would be happy posting the next chapter, and I had typed MUCH more than I thought. So it's time to continue this angsty and stressful tale. As always, I do not own_ Welcome to Hell _or any of the characters. That honor belongs to the wonderful and talented Erica Wester. Thank you, Erica, for creating this story. My best friend also deserves some gratitude. Though she longer betas for me (my decision, not hers. She's a busy lady), she's still so encouraging when it comes to me writing this fic. All right, enough the sappy stuff. I need to finish the disclaimer. Though I do not own any of the characters from_ Welcome to Hell _, there are still some concepts and characters in this pic that I do own, like Bal, Saol, and the Cataclysm. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I hope you all enjoy this chappie!_

"I seem to remember us having a similar conversation and it not ending well for either of us." Jonathan stated calmly, reclining on his bed. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be torturing the love of my life? Can you stick by any of your promises, Caius?"

The small demon snarled and clenched the fist of his free hand. He did not have the strength to beat the life out of this insolent mortal, but Jonathan Combs would pay for his insolence and crimes later.

"It appears that my fiancée has taken the matter out of my hands." Caius replied through clenched teeth. "He has decided to perform an exorcism on that prat of a spirit in order to exorcise the Cataclysm."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you're so upset? Because Sock isn't sick anymore?" He couldn't keep the hope from his voice, and Caius all but sighed in pleasure at the thought that he would be destroying that hope in a mere moment.

"Quite the opposite, Jonathan Combs. You see, I've returned to this disgusting plane of existence to tell you that the exorcism will fail unless you come assist Mephistopheles."

The sight of the light fading from the mortal's eyes was nothing less than a feast for Caius. He could already feel his strength returning.

"How…" Jonathan began in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat and started again. "How can I trust that you're telling the truth? Isn't it more likely that you're only spinning a tale so that I'll willingly follow you into Hell?"

"And why would I want you in my home, Jonathan Combs? You are not destined to go there or Heaven. You are a Limbo-bound soul. Nothing I could manage to do in the few seconds you would be in Hell would change that fact."

Jonathan frowned, hating that Caius made a certain sort of sense. There was no point in tricking Jonathan into going to Hell if he couldn't keep him there. That could only mean he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to give up that easily, though.

"All right. Say you're telling the truth. Why does Sock need me? Why can't they complete the exorcism without me?"

"Sock will not allow Mephistopheles and his elder brothers near his heart because he is afraid. He is allowing himself to be consumed by the anger and darkness of the Cataclysm. If he were to see you, he may feel safe enough to allow Mephistopheles and his brothers to complete the exorcism."

"And what will happen to Sock after the exorcism ends?" Jonathan asked, almost afraid to ask the question.

Caius grinned, and Jonathan flinched, beginning to feel regret at having asked the question. The young demon had been looking forward to this question.

"Well, young Jonathan Combs, there are two ways in which the exorcism can end. Either the Cataclysm will be exorcised and thus destroyed, for Cataclysms cannot live without their hosts."

"What's the other option? Please don't tease me, Caius. If you're telling the truth, and I assume you are, time is kind of ticking away far too quickly."

"Good observation, Jonathan Combs." Caius replied, almost impressed. Despite all that he had been through, he still thought of humans as being lower life forms who were only capable of the most basic of bodily functions and emotions. In other words, they were primitive. Thus, Caius was almost impressed that Jonathan had come to the correct conclusion regarding their time limit. The fact that Jonathan had politely asked Caius to continue only furthered Caius' surprise. "If the exorcism is not successful, Sock will be completely and utter consumed by the Cataclysm, which will, in turn, lead to his destruction in a most painful manner. After destroying Sock, the Cataclysm will proceed to consume all the known universes. Now, I quite enjoy my immortality, and I do not prefer that manner of death. Do you?"

Jonathan sighed, knowing that not even Caius would use the destruction of every possible universe to convince Caius to go to Hell. Besides, it was obvious that Caius was injured. Everything rode on Jonathan agreeing with what Caius had said, and he didn't think that Caius would have come back in such an unprepared fashion if he didn't _need_ Jonathan to come with him.

"All right, Caius. I'll come with you, but if you're lying, I'll kick your ass to next Tuesday."

Caius rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "Get in line, Jonathan Combs."

And with that, the two disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. No one else in the house had any clue about the deal that had just been made.

 _I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, constructive criticism, reviews, and the like will forever be appreciated. Flat-out negativity, flames, and hate are not and will be ignored. See you soon!_

 _XOXOXOXOXO_


	18. Expulsion

_Hello, everyone. So, this is the longest chapter I've written in quite some time and a big event occurs in it. I really do hope everyone is enjoying the story and that I haven't marred the plot in any form or fashion. I think I've mentioned this in a previous author's note but just in case: I did look over my notes for this fic and talked with my best friend, who came up with the original idea for the fic in the first place, and I realized that there is still some stuff to write. So, this chapter isn't the end. Now that I've covered that, it is time for the ever-so-entertaining disclaimer! I do not own Welcome to Hell in any way. That honor belongs to the talented Erica Wester. As I just mentioned, the original idea for this fic was my best friends's and she was kind enough to let me turn it into this little angsty mess. All the original characters and the furthering of the plot are my creations. As always, I hope you all enjoy the chappie!_

By the time Caius returned with Jonathan, the three elder entities were all but sweating with the exertion of keeping the Cataclysm contained. Bas looked up, panting softly.

"Is this the mortal boy Mephistopheles spoke of?" He asked hoarsely. Caius only nodded in response before giving Jonathan a strangely gentle shove toward the circle.

Mephistopheles looked up after Bas had spoken and couldn't help the cry of despair that escaped his lips once he looked at Jon. There was no other word for it. Jonathan Combs looked like absolute shit. The teenager was pale, skin almost translucent. Mephistopheles was trying to pretend that the visibility of Jon's bones was only a trick of the light or one of a tired mind. Jon was shaking and had been using Caius as support until the demon had gently shoved him toward the main exorcism. He looked nauseas and exhausted. Jonathan Combs had only been in Hell for ten minutes at the most, and he looked like he'd been afflicted with the stomach flu for the past two weeks.

"Mephistopheles?" Bal sounded impatient, almost frightened, though Mephistopheles couldn't imagine that his older brother knew the meaning of the word. "Caius has gone. Is this the boy you were speaking of or not? We do not have much time left."

Mephistopheles snapped out of his funk and turned to look at Bal. "I apologize, Bal. The boy's appearance surprised me. This is Jonathan Combs."

Said boy stumbled toward Sock, a look of horror intermingingly with the other negative emotions on his face.

"What happened to him?" Jon whispered, putting a hand over his mouth as if further nauseated by the sight before him. "How did it get this bad? I only just saw him!"

Bas looked at the young mortal sympathetically. "I am afraid our youngest brother has made some mistakes that have led to grave mistakes." He nodded toward Mephistopheles, and Jonathan turned slowly toward the Devil.

" _This_ is your fault, and you want me to help fix it? You want me to help clean up your mess?" Jon screeched, translucent cheeks flushed with hectic red spots.

Mephistopheles couldn't help but reel back from the sudden outburst. He hadn't expected Jon to know that he, Mephistopheles, had played a role in Sock's situation, let alone scream at him for his actions. Saol squeezed his hand, not bothering to be gentle. In fact, Mephistopheles was quite sure his older brother had meant to hurt him. The pain had one good consequence, though: Mephistopheles could now think clearly. He took a deep breath and focused his attention on Jonathan Combs.

"Jonathan, I know you're upset, and that's more than understandable. I deserve your anger and much more, but right now, we really do need your help. If we can't complete the exorcism, the Cataclysm will destroy everything, including Sock. We don't have much time left. Will you help us? Please?"

Jonathan turned his attention to Bas and then Saol, eyes narrowing. Did they have a hand in Sock's misery as well? Seeing the looks of irritation and anger on their face, he suspected that that wasn't the case. They were just as upset with Mephistopheles as he was.

"Fine, but I am going to have your fucking head for this, Mephistopheles. Sock told me you were under a lot of stress, what with the remodeling of Hell and all, but I don't know what fucking game you thought you were playing at. I hope your reasoning was worth it because now we're all fucked. You hear me, Mephistopheles? We are all _fucked_!"

Mephistopheles was under too much pressure to be upset about this mortal pup's insolence and threats. Besides, everything he was saying was true, even though he was conveying the message in the way that only angry teenagers can, with loud voices and _lots_ of cursing.

"We have no more time for discussion. Please come forward, Jonathan Combs." Saol commanded and was pleased to find that Jonathan was more than willing to comply. "Say the young spirit's name."

Jonathan couldn't help it. He knelt down besides Sock, tears appearing in his grey eyes. "Sock, please, please don't give in. You are stronger than this beast. You still have a job to do." Choking back his sob, he took the little poltergiest's hand, ignoring the wave of pain that swept over him when he did so. "I'm still here. Don't leave me to deal with life on my own."

Saol, Bas, and Mephistopheles were staring. The mortal child was holding the hand of a possessed poltergeist and had yet to burst into flames. It was obvious that he was in pain but not as much as he should have been in. As they continued to watch, eyes growing wider, Sock opened one green, pain-filled eye, trying to focus on Jonathan.

"Jon…Jonathan…Don't let it take me…I want to go back with you…"

Jonathan squeezed Sock's hands, tears trailing down his pale cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere, Sock. You're gonna get better, and we're gonna go home."

The three elder entities took this as their cue and began to chant once more. The Cataclysm was now tossing itself about in confusion rather than anger and spite. Mephistopheles took this as a good sign. If he and his brothers could keep the Cataclysm confused, they had a fairly decent chance of destroying it.

Jonathan slumped forward, still holding onto Sock's hand. He felt awful, like he had suddenly been afflicted by every disease known to man and demon. He wanted to vomit up blood and organs, watch as his life dwindled away, but he wouldn't allow himself that luxury just yet. Sock still needed his help.

The small poltergeist in question was gazing at the man he loved, watching as he died in order to save him. He could see how badly Jon wanted to give in, to let the effects of Hell and the anger of the Cataclysm destroy him physically and mentally. But he was doing his best to stay strong for Sock, and what was Sock doing? Sock was giving in to what the Cataclysm wanted. A wave of anger roared through the tiny spirit, causing the Cataclysm, for lack of a better word, to flinch. Sock bared his teeth, green eyes narrowing into nothing more than slits, and arched his back, trying to force the Cataclysm out. This startled the Cataclysm, almost frightening the dark mass. Mephistopheles and his brothers took this as their opportunity to once begin chanting, hoping that the fright of the Cataclysm would increase their chances of getting rid of the damn thing.

As the exorcism progressed, Jon couldn't help but whimper. He knew the Cataclysm was losing this war and that he would soon have the sweet little ball of awkward that was Sock back in his arms, but he was feeling worse and worse as the minutes ticked by. Now, instead of being entirely worried about Sock, he was beginning to fear that he wouldn't be strong enough to hold the love of his life in his arms, that he would die before he got to see Sock smile in relief as the Cataclysm was eradicated. As soon as he became consciously aware of this thought, he began to panic and fight against the illnesses and diseases that the very walls of Hell itself was trying to shove down his pale throat.

For a moment, the Cataclysm was relieved. The creature known as Sock was no longer panicked, fearful, and sad. Therefore, the Cataclysm would not be able to continue the possession for long. However, when Jonathan Combs, the mortal boy that the three entities were relying on as their savior, had begun to feel fearful, the Cataclysm had started to feel strong once again and would have smirked if it had been able to do so. But mere seconds later, the mortal child began to fight the fear and panic off and returned his focus to the creature known as Sock. The Cataclysm let out a howl of fury. This was not how this was meant to go! Nothing should have been able to compete with the power of the Cataclysm and yet the Cataclysm could feel its form melting away. It flinched away as if acid were being poured onto its trembling black mass of a body, much like acid was said to be constantly dripping on the God Loki. The Cataclysm knew it had lost, but it was also determined to leave the five creatures surrounding it with memories that would haunt them for years to come. It opened what served as its mouth and let out an ear-piercing, blood-curdling howl, forcing detailed images of long ago wars and historical torture chambers into the minds of the creatures that had dared go up against its power, before exploding in a cloud of black dust.

Mephistopheles and his brothers were thrown backwards, each hitting a different wall. Jonathan managed to keep his hold on Sock's hand, but a howl of agony was ripped from his throat as the dust particles settled on his bare skin. Sock seemed to have fared the worst, however. He was curled up on his side, clutching Jon's hand like it was a lifeline and maybe it was at that point. He was shivering violently, and his green eyes darted around the room in terror, as if he expected the Cataclysm to suddenly reassemble itself and hurt him again. Whimpering, he clung to Jonathan, reaching out with his other hand to gently stroke the gray-eyed boy's cheek.

"Jonathan, I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you today and I didn't mean to hurt you the last time I saw you." He managed to say in a hoarse voice, tears appearing in his eyes.

Jon smiled weakly and returned the gesture with his free hand, carefully caressing the tiny spirit's cheek. "Don't be stupid, Sock. I knew that wasn't you." Before the touching moment could continue, Mephistopheles appeared behind Jonathan, holding his side and wincing.

"Jonathan, I appreciate your help. We all do." He said softly, gesturing behind him to where his brothers were standing and dusting themselves off. It appeared they hadn't been hurt by the Cataclysm's final act. "And I know we have a lot to talk about, but you need to get out of here before the disease is a permanent part of your body. Sock will be going with you."

Sock stared at the orange-haired man, eyes widening hopefully. "Really?"

Mephistopheles chuckled weakly. "Well, you don't want to stay here with me, do you?"

Jonathan smiled at the Devil and shakily got to his feet, reluctantly letting go of Sock's hand to do this. He was still livid with Mephistopheles, but he would accept this gift for now. Besides, he really did feel like crap. Sock carefully got up and wrapped his arm around the mortal boy's waist. Mephistopheles smiled at the sight before him, hating himself for causing so much grief and havoc for the young couple standing before him and for every universe that the Lord had created. He was the definition of a royal fuck up. He closed his eyes, more to hide the tears appearing in his eyes than to help him with the spell he was about to use. With a wave of his hand, the two boys disappeared, returning to the Comb residence. It was over. For now.

 _As always, I hope everyone enjoyed the chappie! Constructive criticism, reviews, and the like are always appreciated, but flat-out negativity is not appreciated and will not be acknowledged. See you soon!_

 ** _X0X0X0X0_**


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